


DSMPRonpa

by Anonymous



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: (if rpf stands for real person fiction like i think it does), Angst, Bat Hybrid BadBoyHalo, Blaze Hybrid Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Creeper Hybrid Sam | Awesamdude, Diamond Golem Hybrid Skeppy, Duck Hybrid Alexis | Quackity, Fox Hybrid Floris | Fundy, Gen, Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa), Moobloom Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, NetherTheStorm, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Slime Hybrid Clay | Dream, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, benchtwt come get ur grain pspspsps, long chapters, that's my anon tag thing!, this is not RPF, you can call me nether :D
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:07:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29512965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: TommyInnit wasn't particularly sure what to expect when he woke up in an unfamiliar school, in which he only recognizes one person -- his best friend, Tubbo.It definitely wasn't a killing game, but things tend to ignore his expectations.(DreamSMP x Danganronpa AU -- no, I did not write it with the "real people," it's their characters, don't worry.)
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Karl Jacobs, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Eret & Floris | Fundy, Liam | HBomb94 & Sam | Awesamdude, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Skeppy & BadBoyHalo, Technoblade & Philza Minecraft, Tommyinnit & Toby Smith | Tubbo
Comments: 96
Kudos: 80
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Prologue.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW/CW: Implied kidnapping, cursing. Ask to add.
> 
> I _highly_ suggest actively trying to read this in the actual character's voices. I write in a lot of their speaking quirks, and it'll look weird if you're not imagining them specifically saying it!
> 
> Please read the notes at the bottom! It's important. :)

Waking up, the only thing Tommy can feel is pain.

 _Excruciating_ pain, at that. The kind that sears through your brain and keeps you from functioning until it subsides, prohibits you from even moving before a new, white-hot bolt of pure agony flashes behind your eyelids and _fuck_ _,_ Tommy thinks, _it hurts._

Even in his just-became-conscious state, Tommy grits his teeth together in a feeble attempt to keep himself from screaming, not wanting to bother anyone in the vicinity. He holds his head, facedown on the cool, flat surface, and tries to block it out but can’t, the feeling almost driving him over the edge. He can feel silent, panicked tears rise to his eyes as the sharp pain rips through his skull at almost twice the intensity, and he can’t help but release a quiet, pained screech, clutching at his locks of blonde hair to distract him from the oh-so-much-worse feeling wreaking havoc on the inside of his head.

He has no idea why it’s happening, when or how it started, or anything of the sort -- all he truly knows at this moment is that he wants it -- no, _needs_ the pain gone.

And then it stops. It’s unlike anything the young boy had felt before -- the pain was there, and then it left without a trace. No remaining linger, nothing but the phantom pains his mind conjures up due to it still processing the information it had so suddenly received -- _world-ending pain is over, you can chill out now._

Heart still running marathons, Tommy raises his head from the surface it was on, giving a moment to let his eyes adjust to the new (?) lighting before taking in his surroundings and letting his mouth hang slightly ajar.

He had assumed he’d fallen asleep at his desk back at home (or something like that -- he couldn’t really theorize about his location through the headaching), but looking around him, it’s obvious that that simply isn’t the case. He’s in a classroom-type thing -- he’s only allowed to assume that because of the desks (like the one he’s currently seated at), the smartboard, the whiteboards, the blackboards, and the teacher’s desk at the front of the room. Other than that, though, the room reeks of peculiarity.

For one thing, there are huge cameras mounted to the walls -- it isn’t abnormal for a school to have security cameras, but those are usually the small circular ones, not the ones that can visibly move back and forth. Not to mention there just being lockers inside of the classroom. Not enough for an entire class, just a few stragglers scattered around the area for an indiscernible reason.

But what is easily the weirdest and most disturbing part, the thing that makes Tommy’s heart dramatically spike in rate is the fact that the windows are occluded. Covered with metal plates and completely blocked off, bolted to the wall with nuts about as large as his hand. He tries to jump up from his seat and stumbles, his legs turning to jelly underneath him. He leans on a desk and breathes for a moment, contemplating how long and how hard he was knocked out for this whole operation to be able to go down.

Feeling steady enough to walk, he pushes himself off of the desk and rushes to the window, yanking at the corners of the metal plates as if his life depends on it (because it might) and cursing loudly when none of them budge even an inch.

Tommy whips his head around, hearing a sound from the back of the room, and the anxiety in his chest spikes when he sees what was behind him. A tall teenager, even taller than him, has begun to stir slightly. Though he’s partially obscured, Tommy can see the crown resting on his fluffy hair and the fact that his skin is split into two colors -- black and white. The boy suddenly jerks (and makes Tommy jump) and, without much of a warning, begins to shriek.

Tommy immediately knows that the black half of this kid is enderman -- there’s physically no other way he could create such an awful, grating, _despairing_ noise otherwise. Tommy finds his hands crawling up to his ears as the audio onslaught continues, and with a twist of his heart, he connects that the poor kid is probably going through the same thing he was earlier. He wonders, assuming that there are more people here (because why would they only target him and this random kid?), if everyone suffered through that upon waking up.

He wouldn’t want anyone to suffer through that. Not his worst enemy, not his closest friend --

The world lurches. Tommy loses his balance, just barely catching himself on a desk as the Earth spins faster and his vision swims. His closest friend. _His closest friend._ He closes his eyes.

Tubbo. Tubbo is here. He knows it. He doesn’t know how he knows it, he doesn’t know if it’s based on subconscious logic or pure gut, but Tommy knows as irrefutable _fact_ that Tubbo is here. And given that the thought of Tubbo is the only thought that doesn’t make him feel like he’s pulling the plug on reality, he figures that he should probably -- he feels as if he _needs_ to go and find him.

Abandoning all notions about the kid in the back of the room (who’s agonized screeching has since subsided to miserable sobs and whimpers) and mostly all coherent thoughts in general, Tommy tears through the classroom and flings open the door to start (frankly, idiotically) bolting down the unfamiliar hallway presented to him, blatantly ignoring the fire that shoots up his weak, supposedly unused legs every time his foot hits the ground with only one word on his mind that tumbles directly out of his mouth without filter:

“TUBBO?!”

Tommy has no idea how long he’s blindly running down the confusingly-colored, twisted halls yelling the name of his slightly older friend, but he knows that it lasts until his legs feel like they’re going to collapse under him and his throat is raw. He leans on a wall and bites back tears, trying to regain even the slightest bit of energy whilst trying to force out the creeping doubts at the corner of his mind -- maybe his gut feeling was wrong. He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, muttering incoherently under his breath. Where is everyone? He’s seen nobody except the kid in the back of the room...who Tommy realizes that he just left to suffer without a spare glance. He winces and groans, starting to slide down the wall dejectedly.

He tries to remember how he got here. He hasn’t been paying much attention to where he’s been running, but it’s beyond obvious that this is a school, plain and simple. It isn’t his or any other school that he’d seen before. He tries to think back to before he woke up in the classroom with that boy, before the pain, before the metal plates -- and is met with an aching emptiness as if he’s grasping for something that he knew used to be there and is _supposed_ to be there, but was moved out of his reach without his permission.

He continues to drop until he hits the ground, pulling his knees towards him and burying his face in between them. _There’s nothing there,_ the boy thinks, and he feels a ball rise in his throat. He doesn’t remember how he got there, obviously, but nor, he realizes with a shudder, does he remember much else. Where there should be...well, he doesn’t even know, but there are things missing, there are so many things missing -- his mind feels hollow, as if everything important was carved out. He doesn’t remember his family -- he tries to think of who would be looking for him, and all he can feel is an ache. Blurry faces of friends he can only just grasp onto -- a Jack (3D glasses, blue and black, headsets connected to nothing), a Ponk (eyes poking out from under a mask, red and yellow and black, cats) -- flash by, and his head pounds if he focuses on them for too long.

And then his limited focus shifts, and he can clearly see a face (round and flushed and always smiling), outfits (an olive-green button-up, overalls with a sweater, ~~a suit?~~ ), distinct features (small horns, furry ears, a tail) -- basically everything that makes up --

“TOMMY?”

Tommy’s head snaps up so fast that he hears a crack come from his neck. He scrambles from the floor, stumbling as he runs in the direction of the voice, yelling, “TUBBO? I hear you, man, WHERE ARE YOU?!”

He doesn’t wait for a response to continue to run, and he finds himself running past a hallway before seeing a flash of green from the corner of his vision. He stops abruptly and turns, cautiously walking back to the hallway and almost falling over as relief floods through his system.

“Tubbo!” He calls out, and the short boy who was just looking through rooms in a panic whips his head around. His hair is messy (as per usual) and his light horns jut out from underneath the chaos. His ears are furry, as to be expected from a moobloom hybrid. He’s wearing his beekeeping outfit -- one would expect that to be one of those bulky white suits, but not with Tubbo. Tommy doesn’t think he’s ever seen his best friend get stung, and all he goes out in is a yellow sweater and overalls. And there’s usually a flower crown, too, but that bit of the outfit is nowhere to be found.

Tommy can clearly see the relief on the older boy’s face, even from a distance, but he can still detect that lingering sense of panic as Tubbo takes a hesitant forward. Tommy wastes little time in breaking into a sprint and bending slightly at the last moment to envelop Tubbo in a hug, which he readily accepts.

“Dude,” he hears Tubbo say, but everything sounds a bit muffled. “What the hell is going on? I -- I woke up and my head hurt and...th-there was someone else in the room but they were still asleep, and I came out and I was looking for you and I heard you! I heard you calling for me, so I came down this hallway and --” Tubbo pauses abruptly. “Tommy?”

“Mmph?”

Tubbo lets out a quiet huff. “Were you even listening?”

“Of course I was, what do you take me for?” Tommy answers semi-truthfully. He heard and registered everything Tubbo had said up to that point, of course, but that isn’t to say that his mind wasn’t flying in several other directions at the time. Tommy inhales sharply before saying, “I’m -- I’m just glad you’re safe, Tubbo.”

They stand in silence for a few seconds, not at all feeling awkward...somehow. After a bit, though, Tubbo chuckles quietly and says, “Tommy, you can let go now, I’m not going anywhere.”

Tommy pretends to have not heard him.

The older boy doesn’t hesitate to almost _immediately_ thwack Tommy’s head with his tail (which is made for that sort of thing, really), eliciting a yelp from the attacked as he pulls away, rubbing at the spot as Tubbo laughs teasingly at Tommy’s misery.

Tommy shoots him a lighthearted glare. “Prick.”

“Clingy.” Tubbo shoots right back with a shrug.

Just as Tommy opens his mouth to hell some BS about not being clingy, he’s interrupted by a familiar ding that rings from his pockets. He and Tubbo immediately lock eyes and say at the same time -- “The communicators!”

The communicators, as one could assume from the name, are devices that you obtain as soon as you join a server. Unbreakable (to Tommy’s knowledge) and impossible to lose, the devices are used for speaking with people all over a server. Basically a huge chat system. Tommy and Tubbo reach into their pockets and pull out the small device, expanding it until it’s about the size of a tablet. But what greets Tommy isn’t the normal chat screen with health at the bottom.

This ‘communicator’ opens up to a flash of light, which almost makes Tommy drop it, turning it away from him to rub his eyes with a curse. His head starts to pound slightly, but he ignores it. When he looks back at it, his name -- TommyInnit -- is displayed in big letters towards the top of the screen, and directly underneath it is a pair of familiar words: “Ultimate Loyalist.”

“Ultimate Loyalist…?” Tubbo says questioningly, and Tommy shushes him.

The screen fades away to show a menu of several grayed-out applications -- School Map, Truth Bullets (?), Presents, Report Cards, School Rules, and System. The only one that Tommy can press is Report Cards, so he does, and the first thing he’s greeted with is a picture of himself and a list of information concerning him next to it.

 **TommyInnit** **  
** **Height** : 6’1”  
**Weight** : 70kg  
**Chest** : _[[why would i know that…]]_  
**Blood Type** : _[[again, why would i know that]]_  
**Date of Birth** : April 9th, 2004  
**Likes** : Tubbo, Music Discs, His Friends  
**Dislikes** : Being called a child  
**Special Notes** : Ultimate Loyalist

“Damn right I don’t like being called a child,” Tommy mutters, before scowling. “They can get my blood type but they can’t get my height right? What bullshit kidnappers.”

“Oh...right, you say that you’re 6’3”, don’t you?”

Tommy makes an offended face, turning to Tubbo who sports an impish smile. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, I _AM_ 6’3”, prick!”

“Of course, of course...why won’t mine turn on?”

Tommy frowns and looks at the device in Tubbo’s hand, which has a completely blank screen, black as night. “Well, when did mine ding? Did I say or do anything or…?”

Tubbo pauses and bites the corner of his mouth, thinking back to a minute or so ago. “It was...right after I called you clingy. And then the screen flashed and that ‘Ultimate Loyalist’ thing showed up.”

“Right, so maybe I have to say something that has to do with _your_ Ultimate talent.” Tommy deduces. Tubbo looks slightly confused at the notion.

“I don’t --”

“BEES, bees and beehives, flowers and pollen and honey and all that good shit,” Tommy speaks over whatever Tubbo was about to say, as per usual. “Black and yellow, like the fuckin’...rap.” The ding comes from Tubbo’s communicator, and there’s that bright flash of white that makes Tommy hiss and close his eyes, a jolt of pain rushing through his skull yet again. What an annoying start-up screen. The light fades away to show Tubbo’s name, and underneath, his title: Ultimate Beekeeper.

The smile on Tubbo’s face appears suddenly, almost artificially, as he says, “Oh...oh! So we have to manually trigger the communicator startup? That’s so cool. That’s sick.”

Tommy nods as his own communicator shows a notification: “Report Card has been updated!” Tommy frowns slightly as he notices that there’s a line of eighteen squares at the top of the Report Card screen. Originally, his picture was the first and only one filled in, but he now notices that Tubbo’s has appeared right next to his. He presses it, and there’s a picture of his best friend, smiling into the camera.

 **Tubbo Underscore** **  
** **Height** : 5’6”  
**Weight** : 57kg  
**Chest** : _[[Understand that these are here in canon.]]_  
**Blood Type** : _[[The author just doesn’t know that information (and doesn’t really want to).]]_  
**Date of Birth** : November 23rd, 2003  
**Likes** : Tommy, Bees, Flowers  
**Dislikes** : Fireworks  
**Special Notes** : Ultimate Beekeeper

“I’m suddenly realizing how fuckin’ creepy this is, why does it have your _blood type?”_ Tommy says, shutting off the communicator before folding it and shoving it into his back pocket. “That’s just so weird.”

“Blood type isn’t really that hard to find, actually,” Tubbo points out. Tommy shoots him a glare and he puts his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying!”

“What, so it’s _not_ creepy?”

“No, I’m just saying -- nevermind.” The shorter boy shakes his head, and Tommy takes his subject change as an absolute win. “Look. There’s eighteen boxes at the top -- does that mean there are sixteen other people here?”

Tommy looks over his shoulder and nods. “Yeah, I guess so. I saw another kid in the room I woke up in, enderman hybrid, looked real fucked up because of the head hurting thing.”

“Oh, did you have that too?” Tubbo says, looking up at Tommy, and the blonde nods. “It was so weird, it hurt like _hell_ at first, and then it just stopped and disappeared, like it --”

“Like it wasn’t even there in the first place, right?” Tubbo nods enthusiastically and Tommy shrugs. “That’s what it felt like for me, but I think it lasted longer for that kid. He was screaming his head off for a while...and then I...left.”

Tubbo punches him in the arm. “Tommy! You couldn’t stay to help?”

“I was preoccupied, I was trying to find you -- shut up!” He shoves Tubbo right back, crossing his arms. “What, who did you wake up with, you said you just left them there, too.”

Tubbo huffs. “It was this guy, he looked around twenty, and he was wearing this _hideous_ multi-coloured sweatshirt, and he was just...dead asleep. Didn’t move an inch, I even tried to wake him up. He was out cold.” Tubbo’s eyes brighten and he shakes Tommy’s arm. “Should we go around and meet everyone? Can we? We should meet them and see if they got all kidnapped, too!”

Tommy is less enthusiastic about the idea, pushing Tubbo off of him. “What if we come across the fucker that did it? I don’t have any weapons or anything, I won’t be able to fight back.”

“You ran around this place yelling at the top of your lungs, and I don’t think anyone came after you,” Tubbo replies immediately, and Tommy has to admit that he has a point. “And even if we do, I’m fast, you’re fast, we’ll be able to outrun them probably, and we’re surrounded by classrooms that we can lock if it _really_ gets that bad.”

Tommy considers it for a moment before sighing. “Yeah, sure, whatever. I’m not gonna fight for you if we get in trouble, though.”

Tubbo laughs out loud at the mere notion of Tommy abandoning him -- they both know it’s a blatant lie. “Yeah, sure you won’t, big man. Let’s go, I saw some people in a classroom down there, we can go wake them up!”

And so they do. Tommy follows Tubbo’s lead as they walk down the long hallway, and Tommy finds himself looking around at the barren walls of the school. He sees tacks still in bulletin board walls, small bits of paper still attached as if the main papers were ripped off in a hurry. Aside from that, though, it just looks like a normal school, if not oddly lighted. It’s scarily empty, though -- images of school remind Tommy of bustling halls and yelling and teachers, but this is just...barren.

They stop at a classroom at a dead-end, Tubbo slowly opening up the door to reveal two people in the middle of a conversation.

There’s a girl there, around Tubbo’s height, with two different hair colors -- blonde in the front and brown in the back. She dons a white dress shirt underneath a tan-coloured apron, completely clean and not wrinkled in the slightest. The other person is an _incredibly_ tall man, 6’4'' at _least,_ with curly brown hair and a beanie. His outfit is the weirdest he’s ever seen someone dare to wear in public -- it looks straight out of the 1700s, some sort of Revolutionary War-era thing. He looks good in it, no doubt, but it’s still...odd.

Tommy studies the outfit for a moment and frowns before shrugging. Weirdo.

Tubbo bounds into the room with a wave and a smile, saying, “Hello!” Tommy is slightly more reserved, but he follows behind him.

The small girl waves right back with a smile that almost makes Tommy have to squint. He has an immediate feeling that she and Tubbo will get along well.

“There are children here, too?” The tall man says with a look of disgust on his face. “That’s horrible.”

Somewhere in him, Tommy knows that there was no ill-intent in the statement (quite the opposite, really), but he doesn’t care at all. He takes a slightly threatening step forward, juts a thumb towards his chest, and yells, “Ey bitch! I am _not_ a fuckin’ child, I’m _six-fucking-teen!_ Don’t call me that!”

The man blinks, hard, and laughs. “Alright then. There are _minors_ here. Does that work?”

Tommy nods curtly. Tubbo points at himself, saying, “I’m Tubbo! And this is Tommy!”

Tubbo points to Tommy, and he swats his friend’s hand down, saying, “I can introduce _myself,_ Tubbo.”

Tubbo looks up at him quizzically. “But you...didn’t.”

“What if I didn’t want them to know my name? What if they’re the ones that kidnapped us?”

“But they’re...not? That guy just sounded surprised that there were kids here, if he kidnapped us, wouldn’t he _know_ that there are kids here?”

Tommy blinks, realizes his mistake, and refuses to acknowledge it. He turns to the dude, walking towards him and saying, “Big man, what is your name? I told you mine --”

“You really didn’t.”

“-- so don’t be rude, _who are you?”_

The guy looks overwhelmed by Tommy’s yelling, but he puts up a smile and says, “My name is Wilbur Soot. Ultimate President, at your service.”

“Ultimate _President?”_ Tubbo exclaims, and he bounds over to Tommy, standing slightly behind him. Even he has to admit that that’s slightly impressive. “You don’t look _that_ old, isn’t there an age limit for those things or something?”

A notification sound rings from Tommy and Tubbo’s communicators and Tommy pulls his out as Wilbur replies, sounding slightly proud, “Normally, yes, but I made the country myself, so I get to pick the rules. And in any case, I’m twenty-four, I’m not that young, either.”

 **Wilbur Soot** **  
** **Height** : 6’5”  
**Weight** : 82kg  
**Chest** : _[[the author doesn’t even want to look these up]]_  
**Blood Type** : _[[she could probably find them but imagine her poor, poor search history]]_  
**Date of Birth** : September 14th, 1996  
**Likes** : Niki, His Country  
**Dislikes** : Traitors, anteaters  
**Special Notes** : Ultimate President

“You’re _six foot five?”_ Tommy says incredulously. “You’re fuckin’ massive, man.”

“Tommy!” Tubbo says, smacking his arm. “How is that more impressive than being the founder of an entire _country?”_

“Wh -- anyone can be a president, not everyone can be _six foot fucking five,_ Tubbo!” He doesn’t wait for a response to turn to the short girl and ask, “Are you Niki?”

The girl looks startled before nodding slightly and saying something so quietly that Tommy genuinely just can’t hear. “Jesus Christ, _speak up!_ WHAT IS YOUR NAME?”

“Tommy! Don’t be rude.”

“Wh -- I couldn’t hear her!”

“ _She_ can hear _you,_ you don’t have to yell!”

“Yes, my name is Niki,” The girl interrupts, and Tommy shoots Tubbo a smug look. The shorter boy rolls his eyes. “I’m the Ultimate Baker, it’s nice to meet you...both.”

 **Niki Nihachu** **  
** **Height** : 5’5”  
**Weight** : 55kg  
**Chest** : _[[like she put a lot of work into this fic but]]_  
**Blood Type** : _[[nah nah nah she’s not THAT deep in]]_  
**Date of Birth** : November 3rd, 2001  
**Likes** : Wilbur, Bread, Cupcakes  
**Dislikes** : Being talked over  
**Special Notes** : Ultimate Baker

“So -- hm...Niki, are you his girlfriend?” Tommy asks bluntly. Tubbo breaks out into indignant splutters, smacking Tommy’s arm whilst Wilbur and Niki just laugh at the question and he asks, “What? _What?”_

“No, he is not my boyfriend, Tommy,” Niki replies through giggles. She then points to Tubbo and asks, “Is he _your_ boyfriend?”

Now it’s Tubbo’s turn to start laughing and Tommy’s turn to splutter, his face turning incarnadine with embarrassment. “Point made.”

“Tommy, it says here that you’re the Ultimate Loyalist,” Wilbur says with a slight smile. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What do you _think_ it means, dickhead?” Tommy responds immediately. “It means I’m all loyal ‘n’ shit!”

“Well -- yes, I figured,” Wilbur says, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “But -- as a president, I assumed that it’d mean loyal to a _country_ since that’s the context it’s usually used in. You know, British loyalists in America during the American Revolutionary War and all that.”

Tommy lets out a huff, minimizing his communicator and crossing his arms. “Well, I dunno what country I’d be loyal...to…”

Tommy frowns. He should know what country he lives in, but the very thought of it gives him the same aching, hollow feeling that thinking of his family and his other friends does. “I don’t...remember. B-but I know that I’m probably loyal as fuck to it! And my friends!”

Wilbur almost looks apologetic...and understanding. “Oh...I’m sorry to hear that. I know that I made a country, but I can’t remember what it’s even called, or who I fought with in the war...it’s like it was just. Erased. Niki said she can’t remember much either.”

Tommy doesn’t exactly know how to respond to that, -- other than saying that this is all really weird, but it’d probably be redundant -- but Tubbo fills the silence by saying, “Wait, you’re _twenty-four_ and you fought in a _war?!”_ Wilbur makes a jokingly confused face and gestures to his revolutionary garb. “Oh...right. That’s still sick, though, that’s awesome.”

“Yep. It was pretty wild. I think there was a traitor, but I’m pretty sure we won, still.”

Tubbo is gazing up at Wilbur with starry eyes, and Tommy rolls his, turning to Niki, who had been silently listening to the conversation with the ghost of a smile. “What about you? What did you do that was all cool?”

“Oh, well…” Niki looks to the side and shrugs. “I run the only bakery in...Wilbur’s country, I guess? It’s pretty popular. I don’t think I’ve ever burnt anything in my life.”

Tommy nods, seemingly impressed. “The only bakery, that’s pretty cool!”

Tubbo also nods. “Pretty pog.”

Tommy snorts, grinning at the word that he and Tubbo made up years ago. “Pretty pog _champ.”_

Niki looks at them as if they’re insane whilst Wilbur looks troubled. “Did...did you...what does that even _mean?”_

Tommy shrugs. “I ‘unno, we made it up, it just means cool or some shit like that.”

Wilbur makes a face, then shrugs yet again. “Huh. Well, _pogchamp.”_

Tubbo grins and Tommy smile slightly. “Is there anything else, or is the bakery it?”

Niki furrows her brows and thinks back. “Um...I fought in one of the wars in Wilbur’s country a while back. I wasn’t that good or anything, but that’s cool...I guess?”

“You -- you _both_ fought in a war?!” Tubbo almost yells. Tommy winces, rolling his eyes. “Wait, was this a different war than his, or…?”

“There were two. I remember that bit, at least,” Wilbur says definitively. “One was for the revolution and gaining independence, and the other...I can’t remember. But Niki was in that one.” Niki nods, and Tommy can’t hide the impressed look on his face -- not that he’s really trying. Fighting in a war side by side -- what an impressive pair.

Tubbo snaps out of his awed stupor, waves, and says, “Okay, well, it was nice to meet you, Niki and Wilbur! We’re gonna go find other people and talk to them, and maybe look for an exit, we’ll see you around!”

Wilbur and Niki wave as the younger duo exit the room. Tommy looks down the hallway, saying, “They were cool. That Wilbur guy was pretty awesome -- are you okay?”

Tubbo, wearing a smile that Tommy only sees on him when he’s in awe of something or another and probably is about to start gushing, squeaks, “Tommy...he’s a _president.”_

Tommy lets out a huff and rolls his eyes, picking up his pace as he says, “Yeah, yeah, big man, you’ll talk to him more later on. Let’s find more people, we can’t just sit and wait to be found all day.”

Begrudgingly, Tubbo goes to help Tommy look through classrooms. It takes them a good while to find a room with people in it, but when they do, it sure as hell doesn’t look boring.

In the dimly lit classroom, aside from the half-broken fluorescent lights on the ceiling, there’s another source -- a person. A young man with parted, black hair and a white headband that stretches around his head and presumably ties off in the back. He has a tight, black turtleneck on with a white crop top on top of it, sporting a flame design -- for good reason, too. Tommy can clearly see three blaze rods hovering around his person, not even to mention the ash that falls out of his hair in droves.

On the other hand, there’s a boy...or, at least, Tommy assumes it’s a boy. They’re about as tall as the blaze hybrid, and they have a box over their head, blue in color with a silly face on it. They wear a blue sweatshirt and sneakers, and their visible skin is dark in tone, but Tommy can clearly see patches of blue on their hands.

Tommy is snapped out of his analysis by a small fireball shooting _directly_ at his face. He yelps and doges, facing that blaze hybrid with annoyance in his eyes. “Oi, dickhead! What’s the big idea?”

The person with a box on them shakes their head, saying, "Look around the room, kid, he's been doing it since we woke up. I don't think he can help it," Tommy assumes that he’s a male from his voice, and he looks around the room and finds small, charred holes littered all across the walls.

“I didn't -- I don't have my --" The blaze hybrid lets out a cough (more of a choke, really), and Tommy can clearly see a puff of thick, black smoke coming from his mouth. Tubbo moves towards him, concerned, tail flicking nervously behind him as he shoots Tommy a worried glance. He beckons Tommy to lean over so he can whisper in the taller boy’s ear.

"He's a blaze hybrid, right?” Tommy nods slowly. It's obvious, what with the fire and the literal blaze rods floating around him. “Some mobs -- especially hostile mobs -- aren't that compatible with the human body, so their hybrids have special medication that they take to help keep it under control -- if he's been kidnapped like the rest of us, he won't have it...Tommy, he's probably burning from the inside out right now."

Tommy’s eyes widen and he straightens, looking at the boy who seems to be in _excruciating_ amounts of pain. “Jesus Christ -- wh -- how do we help him? We can’t just leave him to die or something!”

“He won’t die,” speaks up the “masked” man from the corner of the room. “It’ll just hurt like a _bitch_ until all of that extra flame is burnt out. And that’s gonna take a while if we’ve been asleep for as long as I think we have.”

“That’s not answering the question, prick!” Tommy yells, feeling panicked for no reason. Sure, it’s a stranger he has no attachment to, but he still doesn’t just want to watch the guy in pain. “What are we supposed to _do?”_

The blue guy pauses, before making a shooing motion with his hands. “Get out. Leave, I’ve got this.”

“I’m not gonna leave you here with him, what are _you_ gonna do to help!”

The guy just shrugs nonchalantly. “Alright then. Get fried when he explodes, then.”

Tommy and Tubbo both look at each other before yelling, “EXPLODES?”

“Dude, just trust me and _get out,_ I promise I’ve got this down, alright? Look,” The guy yanks up his sleeve to reveal his arm, which has even more of the blue splotches on them than his hand -- bigger and rougher, too. They glisten in the light of the flames coming from the blaze hybrid, which have spread to the rods and even a bit of his hair. “I’m a hybrid, he’s a hybrid, I feel this way sometimes, he’s _clearly_ feeling that way right now --”

The dude lets out a clawing screech as his hair is _completely_ engulfed in flames, and Tommy suddenly doesn’t feel all that compelled to stay anymore, pulling on Tubbo’s arm as he rushes out of the room and slams the door behind him. He looks through the tiny window and can hear the box dude’s voice rise over the coughing and yelling -- but he can’t make out what’s being said.

Whatever it is works, though, because only a few moments later, the blaze guy seems to _actually explode_ into a pillar of flame, and Tommy can’t help but exclaim at the thought of what’s happening to the box guy in there with him. He looks down at Tubbo as Tubbo looks up at him, and they both wait with bated breath until the fire stops.

“You two can come back in now!”

Tommy lets out a sigh of relief, pushing open the door and wincing -- the area around the blaze hybrid is _completely_ charred, and whatever desk was right next to him has been completely incinerated. The poor guy is on the ground, looking completely exhausted but better than before. At least his clothes are still on -- they must be fireproof or something.

Tommy walks over to him and reaches out his hand for the guy to get up. The hybrid looks Tommy in the eye with a grin, and Tommy can see the bright, orange eyes that remind him of his own. As soon as the blaze hybrid’s hand meets his own, though, he yelps and almost lets go -- “Jesus fuckin’ Christ man, your hand is gonna _burn me!”_

The box guy scoffs. “No, really? How weird, surely this isn’t the same guy that just summoned hell into this classroom less than a minute ago? His hand is hot? What?”

“Alright, wise guy,” Tommy says, helping the guy up (and trying not to wince at the searing burn of his hand) before walking up to the box guy and sticking a finger into his face. “What’s with the box, weirdo? What are you hiding? Why are you such a prick?”

“Tommy!”

“What! He’s being a prick!”

“What a weird way to ask someone for their name, _Tommy,”_ the box guy says in a light tone. “Pretty rude, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t _ask_ you for your name, and _you’re_ the one being rude, douchebag!”

“Really? I’m pretty sure I just saved a dude’s life back there, actually. You’re yelling at a hero, Tommy -- doesn’t that make _you_ the douchebag?”

Tommy is left without words as Tubbo and the blaze guy snigger from behind him. Tommy whips towards them, scowls at Tubbo (who shrugs in return), before turning back to the box guy, who is now in a mock bow.

“Skeppy, Ultimate Prankster, at your service,” Skeppy says, and Tommy scowls. He can almost hear the smug ‘:)’ at the end of the sentence. They sit in silence before Skeppy looks up at him and whispers, “This is the part where you introduce yourself.”

“‘Ultimate Prankster?’ Sounds like a dickish talent to have to me.” Tommy says, completely ignoring him.

Tubbo walks up and punches him in the arm, pointing at him and saying, “He’s the Ultimate Loyalist, and I’m Tubbo, the Ultimate Beekeeper!”

Notifications ring from throughout the room and Skeppy turns his bow to Tubbo. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he muses, and he stands. “Not your friend, though. He’s kind of a prick.”

Tubbo nods sagely, and Tommy has never felt so offended.

He indignantly turns to the blaze hybrid, who has just been looking on whilst supposedly trying to catch his breath. “What about you? Are you the -- how funny would it be if you were like, the Ultimate Arsonist or something?”

Tommy hears a notification come from his, Tubbo’s, and Skeppy’s tablets, and he stares at the blaze hybrid incredulously. “No way.”

The guy smiles sheepishly. “I’m Sapnap. And, uh...yeah.” He makes a pair of finger guns and pretends to shoot them -- except he doesn’t pretend at all and two minuscule fireballs zip past Tommy’s head, making him yelp. He refrains from saying something along the lines of “that’s so cool” to keep face, but it _is_ pretty cool.

 **Skeppy** **  
** **Height** : 5’7”  
**Weight** : 60kg  
**Chest** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Blood Type** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Date of Birth** : January 17th, 2000  
**Likes** : BadBoyHalo, pranks, diamonds, blue  
**Dislikes** : Beavers, condescending people  
**Special Notes** : Ultimate Prankster

 **Sapnap** **  
** **Height** : 5’8”  
**Weight** : 89kg  
**Chest** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Blood Type** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Date of Birth** : March 1st, 2001  
**Likes** : Dream, George, art  
**Dislikes** : Water, insults  
**Special Notes** : Ultimate Arsonist

“How do you even become the Ultimate Arsonist, anyway?” Tubbo questions as Tommy looks over the information on his communicator. “Do you just...burn stuff down real good?”

“I --” Sapnap breaks into slight laughs and shakes his head. “Here, lemme show you. I’ve already fucked up the classroom, s’not like it can get any worse.”

He looks around the room for an uncharted spot and thinks for a moment before holding out his hand towards a part of the wall that was untouched by his earlier outburst. Tommy watches in awe as flames rip from Sapnap’s hand and hit the wall at full force, roasting it and sending heat everywhere, so much that Tomy and Tubbo take a full step backward in sync as the onslaught continues. Once Sapnap lowers his hand, though, Tommy’s mouth falls agape at what has been left on the wall amongst the soot and ash.

It’s a gorgeous pattern, spirograph type beat. And what makes it cooler is that it was completely untouched by the flames. The pattern itself is the actual wall -- the outline is what was burned. Tommy steps forward and reaches out to touch it, but Sapnap slaps his hand down and gives him a weird look. “Dude,” he says, looking both confused and amused at the same time. “You’re gonna burn yourself.”

Tommy huffs indignantly. “No, I’m not.”

“Tommy’, it’s _literally_ still sizzling, what is wrong with you.” Tubbo doesn’t phrase it like a question, playfully elbowing Tommy, who turns away as if nothing was even said. He directs his everlasting scowl to Skeppy.

“What about you?” Tommy asks in a blunt tone. “What makes you all special? And -- also, what kind of hybrid are you? I can’t tell. Or do you just have some weird skin condition?”

Skeppy tilts his head to the side before chuckling. “Glad you finally remembered me. Here, I’ll answer the last question first.” He then, to everyone’s (or, at least, _definitely_ Tommy’s) complete surprise, proceeds to lift the box off of his head.

His face is covered with the same, rough patches that Tommy saw on his hands, which he actually expected. But what he _didn’t_ expect was the solid blue right (left, to Tommy) eye that the guy has. He can tell that it moves just like the other _normal_ blue eye, but Tommy would be lying if he said it isn’t slightly weird.

Skeppy sticks out his hand with a bright smile. “Officially, I’m Skeppy, Ultimate Prankster, funniest guy, and the only known diamond golem hybrid (as of right now).”

Tommy’s eyes widen as he shakes Skeppy’s hand, glancing down at Tubbo, who looks more excited than Tommy’s probably ever seen him. His tail flicks (and almost hits Tommy) as he says, “ _Really?!_ Look -- look, look, I’m the only moobloom hybrid! See?”

Tubbo squeezes his eyes shut as Tommy lets go of Skeppy’s hand, watching with mild intrigue. Suddenly, a singular buttercup appears from the top of his head, and Tommy helps in pluck it off and hands it to the shorter boy.

Skeppy's smile widens as he leans forward to be eye level with Tubbo, saying, "That's so cool, dude! You...must've been reeeal pissed with the vote, amirite?"

Tubbo clenches the flower in his hands as he nods so hard he bounces. "Seriously! Three mobs, Mojang said, three mobs that they could possibly bring back from extinction, and the people choose the bioluminescent squid that isn't even luminescent. What bullshit."

Tommy, Skeppy, and Sapnap all laugh out loud, the last two being particularly more boisterous than Tommy. He feels out-of-place being the only human in the room -- not uncomfortable, never uncomfortable, just...out of the loop, almost. It's not that it wasn't funny, it just wasn't...relatable? Whatever. It isn't a new feeling, but Tommy's gotten used to it...he thinks. Has he? Can he even remember?

"I like this one," Skeppy decides. He holds out his hand to tubbo, palm up, and it's covered in the same blue patches -- which Tommy suddenly realizes are real, honest-to-goodness diamonds. He grimaces and thinks about why he wears the box over his head and the long sleeves. "Here, look --" From one of the patches, a large one on the palm of his right hand, slowly comes out a perfectly crystal-looking shape. It stands erect before Skeppy plucks it off and holds it out towards the younger boy. "We can do a trade!"

Tubbo's eyes, from what Tommy can see, are like saucers as he nods slowly. He backs up quietly towards Sapnap and leans over to him, whispering, "Are you gonna give 'em one of your rods or something or...?"

Sapnap looks as if he has to stop himself from laughing, his eyes still trained on the pair conversing with each other. "No...I think it's a 'super-duper rare basically-extinct hybrid' thing. Blaze hybrids are...rare, I guess, but definitely not like...mooblooms and diamond golems don't exist anymore, y'know?"

Tommy nods and straightens just as Skeppy does. He has the buttercup behind his ear, and Tommy feels his heart melt, just a little bit. Not that he'd ever say it, though. Skeppy and Tubbo high-five, and a cloud of blue puff out from the impact. Tubbo confusedly looks at his hand to see a small bit of blue...something. Tommy looks at his own and his expression turns mortified at what he sees.

It's covered in small, minuscule, diamond crystals...so tiny and grainy and _sparkly_ that it's basically just…

"GLITTER?! Oooh, you piece of _shit_ ," he says, enunciating the last words and the ‘t’ at the end for effect. “Do you -- this is going to get _everywhere_ , you douchebag, yooou _prick.”_

Skeppy holds his hands up in mock surrender. "No more 'glitter,' sorry!" Again, Tommy can almost hear the colon closing parenthesis at the end as he glares at the hybrid. "And, uh, to answer your first question, about how I got my vastly superior talent...here, let me tell you a secret, Tommy."

He beckons the taller boy forward and tilts his head up, cupping a hand around his mouth and Tommy's ear and whispering (incredibly loudly), "I have no fucking idea."

Tubbo and Sapnap laugh, and Tommy actively has to keep a straight face as he says, "Well, I got _my_ information, let's go, Tubbo!"

He turns to leave, and Skeppy grabs his hand, shaking it one last time before moving onto Tubbo, saying, "It really was nice to meet you both, I hope we see each other later on!"

Tommy doesn't see any blue on his hand, so he lets it slide and starts to leave, Sapnap just giving a wave and a quiet, "Bye.”

Stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind him, Tommy lets out a sigh. “They were cool. That arson dude was _sick,_ did you see that pattern on the wall? Tubbo?”

Tommy glances down at his friend concernedly when he doesn’t get a response. The boy in question is turning the diamond he was given over in his hands, and just as Tommy opens his mouth to make fun of him for not paying attention, Tubbo says, “Yeah, he was cool. What were you talking to him about, by the way? When I was talking with Skeppy?”

Tommy falters before saying, “I was askin’ him if he could burn my logo into the wall, so I could leave my mark on this shithole like a badass, y’know?”

Tubbo snorts, which is a funny and slightly threatening sound coming from a moobloom hybrid. “What logo? You don’t have a logo?” He doesn’t believe him, obviously, but doesn’t seem to be pressing on the matter all that much. Thankfully. Tommy is the world’s worst liar, though he probably wouldn’t say that to anyone aloud.

"I do, too."

"Do not.”

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do too, and it's the coolest damn logo you've ever laid eyes on, flower boy,” Tommy says, huffing with indignance and making a threatening shape with his right hand. “Now shut up about it.”

Tubbo does no such thing, snorting with laughter and taking Tommy’s open hand, saying through snickers, “Does your logo have anything to do with dicks?”

Tommy looks down at his hand and makes a surprised noise -- it is indeed what Tubbo said, pressed into his hand with blue sparkles. Tommy growls, brushing the glitter off with his other hand and scowling hard. “I hate that guy, what a prick --”

“Nooo, Skeppy is cool, that’s just what he does, it’s his talent!”

“His _talent_ is the _talent_ of a _prick,_ and I’ll stick by that until the day that I die.”

The next classroom, the pair finds without much drama. Once they approach the door, though, the mood shifts dramatically. From inside, Tommy can hear loud yelling and singing and even _louder_ guitar playing. Tubbo and Tommy look at each other and push open the door.

The first thing that catches Tommy’s eye, surprisingly, isn’t the weirder-looking person -- no, what Tommy sees, first and foremost, is a short, beanie-wearing guy strumming a guitar _loudly_ and screeching curses to the tune of what he's playing on the guitar. He dons a tracksuit and a pair of sunglasses pushed to the top of his head, only a few bits of hair sticking out from underneath his hat. Tommy feels his hands raise to his ears -- he’s never heard a man that can project his voice that loudly...aside from himself, maybe. There's next to no structure to the song, and Tommy has no idea why he's singing it...until he looks at the other guy in the room.

He has no clue what kind of hybrid he is, but he is one, no doubt. Most of his skin is black, and there are horns protruding from the front of his head and fangs protruding from out of his mouth and pressing lightly against his bottom lip. He wears glasses and a cloak that covers most of his body, minus a bit of his black pants and his grey boots. He looks straight out of a DnD game, dressed in all black and such. Almost like an assassin.

Of course, this effect is ruined by the fact that he’s covering his ears and yelling, “LANGUAGE!!” and other variations of the statement at the singing boy, looking visibly distressed at the song and almost looking as if he’s going to cut through his lip with how tense his face looks. He looks exasperated and hunches over, and only then does Tommy see the wings coming from his back -- they look like bat wings. That’s a new one.

Tubbo tentatively speaks up and says, “H...hello?” Going thoroughly ignored, he clears his throat and says loudly, “Hello?”

Only then does the short boy stop playing his guitar and look at the pair with a grin, waving and saying, “Ayyye, _hola, amigos!”_

Tommy instantaneously snaps, “I am not your ‘amigo,’ _amigo.”_ The boy only cackles, and Tommy once again has to suppress a smile from coming onto his face. The guy’s laughs are as contagious as the flu, Jesus.

The presumed bat hybrid looks up and sighs with his entire body, whisper shouting, _“I thought he was never going to stop, oh my God.”_

The boy drops a particularly loud f-bomb, and the hybrid stamps his foot, clenches his fists, and yells, “Lan-GUAGE!!”

The short kid breaks out into guffaws, finding this to be the comedy of the century and he slaps his thigh and bends over until he almost falls. Surrounding the guitar strap going around his body, Tommy notices, are two bright yellow wings, spreading out slightly as he laughs.

“Okay, okay okay okay,” the guy says, pretending (?) to wipe a tear from his eye and calming down. “Jesus, you have a stick up your ass.”

“Language.”

He snorts and turns to the two teens, who’ve just been watching this all go down with the most confused look on his face. “I’m Quackity, and this is BadBoyHalo, or Bad. I’m the Ultimate Guitarist, he --”

“ _He_ can introduce him _self,_ thank you very much,” BadBoyHalo snaps, crossing his arms and turning towards Tommy and Tubbo. He gestures to himself. “But he’s right, I’m Bad, it’s nice to meet you both!” The man smiles, and Tubbo returns it -- predictably, Tommy does not.

“He’s Tommy, Ultimate Loyalist, I’m Tubbo, Ultimate Beekeeper, and it’s nice to meet you, too!”

Several notifications ding from around the room and Tommy pulls out his communicator whilst asking, "Aye Bad. What's your Ultimate?"

 **Alex Quackity**  
**Height** : 5’0”  
**Weight** : 57kg  
**Chest** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Blood Type** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Date of Birth** : December 28th, 2000  
**Likes** : Karl, singing, debating  
**Dislikes** : Whiskey, smoking, being called a flatty patty  
**Notes** : Ultimate Guitarist

Bad visibly bristles, (supposedly) glancing to the side and muttering, "Oh, I'd really rather not say..."

"Don't be a coward, BadBoyHalo, it's okay if it's super lame," Quackity says, half-laughing. "I know I'll laugh if it's stupid, but these two might not if you're lucky!" He juts a thumb towards the teenage pair.

Astonishingly in sync, Tubbo and Tommy both begin to vehemently deny being able to hold in their laughter, Tommy shaking his head and saying, “No, I absol _lutely_ will laugh if it’s stupid, and I’m not at all sorry about it.”

Bad rolls his eyes (Tommy assumes so -- his eyes are completely white) and tightens his crossed arms against his chest. “No, it’ll completely blow your minds with how freaking cool it is, don’t be silly. I just...feel weird saying it, I guess.”

Quackity’s eyes widen before narrowing slightly with a sly smile, and he laughs slowly. “Ohohoho, so it’s _that_ kind of talent, huh?” Tubbo suddenly starts to snicker, and Tommy is slightly confused as to why. “Hey, uhh…” Quackity reaches up and puts his arm around Bad’s shoulders, who tenses slightly. “How much would I need to pay to rent out your... _services?”_

Tommy and Bad realize at the exact same time, and while Tommy breaks out into a fit of loud laughter, Bad shoves Quackity’s arm off of him, scowling. “Ew, that isn’t -- my talent isn’t -- aren’t you like, fourteen or something? You shouldn’t be making jokes like that.” The guy sounds like a concerned parent or teacher, and it’s enough to almost make Tommy start laughing again.

Quackity’s face falls nigh instantaneously, and he says, “Alright BadBoyHalo, fuck you for that one --”

“Language!”

“I am _twenty years old,_ screw you.”

Tommy snorts and Tubbo snickers. “Sorry, you’re _twenty_ and as tall as a ten-year-old?” Tommy says between chuckles. “Dude, the only girl I’ve seen so far is half a foot taller than you, get good.”

“Frankly, I’m offended by all of this height talk, truthfully,” Quackity says in a playfully somber tone of voice. “I think we should go back to bullying BadBoyHalo.”

The three of them nod in sync and the person in question groans, pinching the bridge of his nose under his glasses and sighing. “You’re not gonna leave me alone until I tell you, are you?”

The three of them shake their heads in sync.

“Okay, look -- can’t you guess? I suppose I have a super obvious hint on me, but I don’t think I want to show you all that...it can be like a game!”

Immediately, Quackity starts to put his guitar away, seemingly fixing to leave. “You grossly overestimate how much work I’m willing to put into this, BadBoyHalo.”

Tubbo steps forward, tail swishing with excitement as he says, “No, Big Q, I think it’d be fun!”

Tommy blinks and asks, “‘Big Q?’”

Tubbo falters, frowning slightly before giving a nonchalant shrug. “Jus’ felt right, I suppose.”

Tommy scoffs, “You met the guy not even five minutes ago and you’re giving him nicknames? Makes you wonder who’s the clingy one here.”

“You,” Tubbo says definitively. “Definitely you. Anyways, Big Q, if you win, I’ll make you a flower crown to go with your wings --”

“With what flowers?” Quackity interrupts, gesturing towards the windows Tommy’s been trying desperately to ignore. “‘S’not like you can go outside for them.””

“Just trust in the --”

“He can make flowers from his hair ‘n’ shit!” Tommy yells, sounding ever so slightly...proud, almost. Tubbo elbows him, muttering something about wanting to do a scam but not sounding particularly upset.

Tommy watches Quackity’s eyes widen. “From your -- like a _moobloom?_ Are you a moobloom _hybrid?”_

Tubbo grins wearily. “The one and only.”

Quackity’s eyes flick around Tubbo’s taller form before he closes them and shakes his head. “That’s sick, dude, holy shit.”

“Language, but that _is_ very cool, Tubbo.”

“Shut up, BadBoyHalo,” snaps Quackity lightheartedly. “What do _you_ get if _you’re_ right?”

Tubbo taps his chin before grinning and saying, “I get to play a song on your guitar, of my choosing.” Tommy can practically _hear_ the mischievous intent behind those words, and he’s concerned as to what the kid is planning.

Quackity visibly hesitates before smiling slightly. “Deal.”

“ULTIMATE ASSASSIN?”

And it starts. The two of them just start yelling random talents out, some of which aren’t even based on his outfit or looks -- they’re screeching so loud that Tommy would be surprised if Bad is actually catching any of it. He looks uncomfortable, almost, pulling down on his hood to make it press against his ears. He still shakes his head at all of their responses, and Tommy watches, snickering, throwing in, “Ultimate Clown,” at a point before their guesses die down.

“This is freakin’ ridiculous man, just tell us, _Jesus,”_ Quackity says exasperatedly, and Bad chides him for his language.

“Here -- I can probably give you a...demonstration, if you’ll let me,” Bad offers, and Quackity’s eyes wiggle. “Don’t. Don’t even --”

“Ohohoho...a demonstration, eh? Do we need to move into another classroom for this one or...?”

Bad huffs, stamping a foot and saying, "Do you want the demonstration or not?!"

"Maybe not in front of the teenagers, Bad, you're a little eager, aren't you?" Quackity snickers and Tommy and Tubbo just look at each other, mildly amused by the display going on in front of them.

“I’m gonna kill you…” Bad mutters, almost _growling_ slightly and walking to the other side of the classroom away from him. Quackity guffaws, falling into a seat with his wings spread out slightly behind him.

“Oh God, I’m so scared mister BadBoyHalo,” Quackity says through mocking tears. “Please mister Muffinhead, please don’t hurt me --”

Tommy doesn’t even have time to catch what happens next. He sees Bad’s hand move, he sees _something_ fly through the air, and he hears Quackity yelp and before he knows it, there’s an item embedded in the wall, pinning one of Quackity’s yellow feathers into the surface.

Eyes look at Bad, whose arm is outstretched with an almost bored, entertained expression. They move to Quackity, who looks thoroughly spooked, a bemused smile growing on his face nonetheless. And then it moves to the feather, and Tommy realized with a bit of a fright that the thing keeping it in the wall is a _knife._

Tubbo follows this same process as him, and he yells out before anyone else, “Knife Thrower! You’re the Ultimate Knife Thrower, aren’t you!”

Bad flashes us thumbs-up with a kind smile as if he isn’t incredibly armed and poised to kill at all times. Notifications ding around the room, and Quackity curses, taking his guitar out. Honestly, Tommy forgot about their little challenge, but Tubbo clearly had not.

“BadBoyHalo just clipped my wings, this is a hate crime,” Quackity mutters in a low voice, clearly joking and being incredibly dramatic, but Bad blinks concernedly. “This is the worst day of my life, I’ll never be able to fly again.”

“Oh -- did it actually hurt, Quackity?” Bad says, clearly confused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to --”

Quackity waves him off with a laugh, chuckling. “It’s fine, it’s like plucking out a hair, feeling’s already gone. Just a little...mmm, disorienting. Didn’t see it coming, y’know?” Bad nods, and Quackity turns to Tubbo, who he hands his guitar. Tommy listens to them while he checks Bad’s profile.

 **BadBoyHalo**  
**Height** : 5’9”  
**Weight** : 72kg  
**Chest** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Blood Type** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Date of Birth** : April 2nd, 1995  
**Likes** : Skeppy, muffins, Rat  
**Dislikes** : Cursing  
**Notes** : Ultimate Knife Thrower

“One song. If you break this I...swear to God, I will break _you.”_ Quackity laughs at the second half, but Tommy feels as if he’s only half-joking, and it scares him a bit. Ultimates. Freaky folk.

Tubbo waves him off with a smile. “Don’t worry Big Q, I know what I’m doing. I only know one song, anyways.”

Tubbo looks down at the instrument in his arms, and the first thing he does is pluck the G string, sending a note that resounds through the room.

(Tommy has no idea what it means or why he did it, but somewhere, a certain presidential British man freezes and thinks back to when he was a teenager. He didn’t even hear the note. He just _knows.)_

And then Tubbo starts his tune, and it takes Tommy a minute to realize that he’s basically committing terrorism.

Bad lets out a breathy laugh and pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and muttering a soft, _“Oh my God.”_

Tommy realizes next, and his loud cackles ring through the room, mixing with Tubbo and Bad’s soft chuckles as Quackity stands in bewilderment.

And then Tubbo gets to the chorus, and Quackity’s face morphs into one of abject horror and he only gets to say one thing before Tubbo bursts into song: _“Are you rick rolling us in twenty fucking twenty-one?!”_

“Never gonna GIVE YOU UP, never gonna LET YOU DOWN, never gonna run around and desert you,” Tubbo looks like he’s having the time of his life putting everyone through this mental torment, and he hopes anyone passing by the room hears it and gets got, too. “Never gonna MAKE YOU CRY, never gonna SAAAY GOODBYE --”

“Alright, that’s enough, how dare you use my guitar for that,” Quackity snaps lightheartedly, snatching the instrument away from Tubbo and putting it away. “Who does that to a person in 2021? What is wrong with you? Leave my sight.”

Tubbo starts to pull on Tommy’s arm and lead him away, still laughing, saying, “We have to get going anyways, we’re looking for more people! We’ll --”

“Wait, Tubbo, shut up for a moment, look at Bad’s profile,” He murmurs, showing Tubbo the screen. Tubbo scans over the mostly useless information before his eyes widen and meet Tommy’s.

“Bad!” The shorter boy yells, startling the other two people in the room. “Do you know Skeppy?”

Bad’s eyes snap up to meet Tubbo’s, and they almost _glow_ with fierceness. “Yes, he’s my best friend -- do you know --?”

“Yes, he’s down the hall, Room 120A, we just met him with another guy, a blaze hybrid, he’s a dia --” Tubbo freezes and blinks, eyes discreetly flicking to Quackity. The duck hybrid in question doesn’t notice, but Bad and Tommy do. Or, at least, Tommy does. “He’s the one that wears the blue box on his head, right? And the sweatshirt?”

Bad gasps, clapping his head together and nodding, already moving towards the door. “Yeah, thank you, thank you _so much,_ I can’t even express in words how thankful I am.”

Tubbo opens his mouth to respond, but before he can manage, Quackity is right in front of him and grabs his arm -- non-threateningly, but Tommy still tenses. His face looks serious, more serious than Tommy think’s he’ll ever see him. “I -- sorry, have you seen someone else? Have you met someone named Karl yet?”

Both Tubbo and Tommy shake their heads, Tommy saying, “We’ve only met like, four people so far, man, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, Big Q, what does he look like?”

Quackity’s slightly pale face flushes, his shoulder rising slightly. “He’s got _really_ messy brown hair, and he’s probably wearing jeans or something, and he has this really c -- ugly fuckin’ sweatshirt that’s super multicoloured ‘n’ stuff, it has a spiral on the front?”

Tommy’s eyebrows raise in slight amusement. For anyone else, they probably would have assumed that Quackity tripped over his words, but Tommy reads people. And reading Quackity right now, he doesn't look like he did before. And he definitely didn't mean it when he said ugly. He glances down at Tubbo, who is nodding super hard again. “Yes, yes, that’s the guy I woke up with, the one I told you about, Tommy! The one who hadn’t woken up when I left?”

Quackity’s eyes widen and narrow slightly. “Wh-what do you mean he hadn’t woken up? Is he okay?”

Tubbo waves him off nonchalantly. “He’s fine, he was just asleep, I checked,” Quackity’s shoulders relax. “He’s definitely up by now, we can go find him! C’mon!”

They start to leave the classroom before Quackity seemingly remembers something, crossing back over and pulling the knife out of the wall, the feather somehow still attached to it. He hands it to Bad, who takes it sheepishly and plucks the feather off, handing it back to the shorter boy, who waves his hand away.

“Keep it, as a token of my flavor.”

Bad’s eyebrows furrow. “Don’t you mean a token of your _favor?”_

“Nope,” Quackity says simply, a sly smirk travelling up onto his lips. “You can do whatever you want with that feather, I won’t mind.”

Tommy straight up _chokes_ in laughter as they flood out of the room, Bad grumbling and rolling his eyes but pocketing the feather anyways. Quackity’s flirty demeanor is probably confusing to everyone else, but Tommy can easily see that it’s all playful. The guy has a relationship ring, for Pete’s sake, that he’s been twisting nervously for a few minutes now. The ring itself is silly, purple and green, but it clearly holds importance to the short boy. He just thinks what he’s doing is funny.

And, to be frank, it is. Hasn’t failed to get a chuckle from Tommy yet, at least.

They wave to the bat hybrid as he leaves, and Tubbo marches in front, directing them to the room he woke up in. Tommy doesn’t have the worst sense of direction, but he has no idea how Tubbo is able to remember where he woke up. But, thinking about it...no, he can’t remember the room. He ran out of it in a bit of a tizzy -- he can’t remember half of the areas he ran though. This hallway might even be one of them.

Tubbo leads them to a classroom, and Tommy can clearly hear chatter coming from inside -- the guy must’ve woken up and been found by someone already.

There are three people inside this time -- one looks generally average, another looks totally wacky, and the third looks like the most boring dude in the world.

There's the guy that Tubbo and Quackity had mentioned -- he only knows it's him because of the sweatshirt. He holds next to no opinion in it, but he can definitely see how people could perceive it as ugly or endearing. He's average height with brown hair, and he's nervously swiping through his communicator, eyes wide and looking...slightly terrified.

The guy that catches Tommy's eye next is the tallest of the three. He wears a poncho that goes halfway down his torso, lime green with a thick white stripe going through it. Underneath it is a gray, long-sleeved shirt, and he wears boots. Oddly enough, his hair is green and goopy looking, like it’s made of slime...which it probably is. Slime hybrid. Not unheard of, but definitely rare. Of course, the thing that stands out the most is definitely the white mask that covers a good 50% of his face, leaving only his mouth visible. The man turns sharply to look at him, and the white dots of his mask bore into the back of Tommy's eyes uncomfortably, and he shifts his attention to the third person.

He looks bored and somehow still half-asleep, but his full expression is covered by the large, white clout glasses on his face. He wears a blue t-shirt with a red and white box in the centre reading '404.' His brown hair is neat for the most part, and he leans on a desk behind the green guy.

Quackity wastes no time in pushing past the two teenagers, exclaiming, “Karl?”

Karl snaps his head away from the other two and breaks out into a smile. Tommy can immediately tell that there’s something off with him. His smile is genuine, but there’s panic and fear, more than what’s called for at this very moment behind it. His eyes linger on Tommy and Tubbo for too long before fixating on Quackity and sliding off the desk. “Oh God, Alex, I didn’t know where you were --”

The two of them embrace, muttering things to each other that Tommy can’t quite catch -- and he isn’t sure he wants to. When they finally break away, Karl faces the two of them with a smile and says, “Hey T -- guys! Hello. I’m Karl. Karl...Jacobs, and I’m th-the Ultimate Storyteller!” Karl brightens, seemingly waiting for something before deflating. He sighs and mutters quickly, “...and the Ultimate Lucky Student.”

Dings ring from Quackity, Tommy, and Tubbo’s communicators. Tommy narrows his eyes and opens it up as Tubbo marvels. “Wow, _two_ Ultimates, really? That’s sick, dude!”

 **Karl Jacobs**  
**Height** : 5’11”  
**Weight** : 55kg  
**Chest** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Blood Type** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Date of Birth** : July 19th, 1998  
**Likes** : Alex, honking, libraries  
**Dislikes** : Getting ignored  
**Notes** : Ultimate Storyteller + Ultimate Lucky Student

"Yeah, that's cool, how do you know our names?" Tommy fires towards Karl, who startles and shrinks into himself.

"Wh -- what do you mean? You've...only just introduced yourselves --"

"No, we haven't. When you were saying hi, you started a word with a 't,' and my name is Tommy (Ultimate Loyalist) and his," he points at Tubbo, who looks at him incredulously. "Is Tubbo (Ultimate Beekeeper). It's a pleasure to meet you. Don't lie to me, dickhead!"

"Tommy," Tubbo says slowly, not at all discrediting Tommy (he's usually right about these things anyway) but still wanting to diffuse the tension. Everyone ignores the dings of the communicators ringing throughout the room -- there are only two, anyways. "Maybe he just misspoke, it's not impossible that it was just a coinci --"

"No, no, Tubbo, it's fine," Karl says, sounding tired. He holds out his communicator to Tommy, which the boy snatches. "It's glitched, everyone is already filled in for me. I was looking through it before you came and recognized your face." Tommy's eyebrows furrow as he looks through it -- indeed, all eighteen people are filled in, including himself. Accepting the story (sort of), Tommy begrudgingly hands it back to a sheepish Karl. "Sorry if it was weird."

Tommy shrugs dismissively. "'S fine. What about your talents? How the hell did _that_ happen?"

Karl laughs nervously, scratching the back of his head and pointing at the two unnamed guys in the room. "M-maybe they should introduce themselves first? It'd be rude to just keep going without letting them speak..."

The masked man snaps his fingers sourly. "Damn, and I wanted to see how long you'd go without noticing us. It's ruined now." He says it in a playful tone, but his speech almost knocks Tommy over with the amount of heavily concealed malevolence behind his words. It makes him shake but it also makes his blood boil. For...some reason.

He marches up to the man and stands over him, and the guy doesn't even look phased when Tommy says rudely, "Well, we noticed you. What's your name?"

The guy smirks, and Tommy repeats himself. _"What's your name,_ dickhead?"

"I don't have to tell my name to a _child,"_ the guy says, smile still present, and Tommy fills with anger that's hardly playful,

"I am _NOT_ a child, asshole, fuck you!"

The man holds up his communicator and points to Tommy's birthday. "Says here that you're sixteen, which means you're a _child."_

“Well, no, it says I was born on April 9th, 2004,” Tommy says as if it proves his point or something. “It doesn’t say that I’m sixteen anywhere on there, actually.”

“Wh -- well, how would you be anything else than sixteen?”

Tommy hesitates before snapping, “Magic, bitch! How do you see out of that thing, anyways?” He questions, changing the subject suddenly like he usually does when arguments aren’t going in his favour. “It don’t got no eyeholes!”

“Magic,” the man responds smoothly before smirking and adding, “Bitch.”

Tommy’s face flushes and he jabs a finger into Dream’s face. “Alright, wiseguy --”

“This is Dream,” interrupts the guy with the clout glasses hastily, probably not wanting the situation to escalate further. “I’m George, Ultimate Modder. Nice to meet you or...whatever.”

Tablets ding and Dream looks smug for some reason. He probably thinks he won that argument. Did he? Was it even an argument? Tommy huffs to himself, scowling as he opens his communicator.

He suddenly looks confused.

 **Dream WasTaken**  
**Height** : 6’3”  
**Weight** : 80kg  
**Chest** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Blood Type** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Date of Birth** : August 12th, 1999  
**Likes** : George, Sapnap, power  
**Dislikes** : Division  
**Notes** : :)

 **George NotFound**  
**Height** : 5’9”  
**Weight** : 57kg  
**Chest** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Blood Type** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Date of Birth** : November 1st, 1996  
**Likes** : Dream, Sapnap, sleeping  
**Dislikes** : Responsibilities, endermen  
**Notes** : Ultimate Modder

“D...Dream?” Tubbo squeaks. Tommy had almost forgotten his friend was there. He looks perturbed by something, but he doesn’t seem to be aware of the look on his face. “What’s your Ultimate talent?”

Dream’s face twists up into a scowl, the first expression he’s had besides a smile this whole time. “I don’t have one,” he spits, as if the sentence is acid on his tongue. “And I don’t want one, either,” he adds, his face lightening up almost immediately. “I don’t want anything Gogy here has.” He thwacks George’s forehead and George shoves him in return.

Tommy blinks. “Huh. Thought everyone would be an Ultimate here. That’s…” Tommy’s eyes widen and he takes a generous step back from the masked man and asks in a half-serious tone, “Are you the one who kidnapped us?”

Quackity and Karl, who Tommy hadn’t even realized were speaking to each other, quiet, and George lets out a strangled yelp of surprise. Tubbo makes a face and elbows the taller boy softly, muttering a quiet, “Tommy, come on.”

Dream looks nothing but amused. “Now, why would you think _that,_ Tommy?”

Tommy huffs and gestures wildly with no clear direction. “Well, I dunno, you’re wearing a mask and hiding your identity, you’re the only one we’ve met so far without an ultimate, and we’ve met --” He stops, and glances down at Tubbo, who signs and holds up nine fingers. “-- nine people so far! You and you buddy remember two people instead of one like everyone else!” He sees someone shift uncomfortably out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t know who it is and, frankly, doesn’t care. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you were all in fuckin’ cahoots!”

“Well, no,” Tubbo drawls, looking thoughtful. “Sapnap seemed nice, he seemed okay.”

“Wait -- you saw Sapnap?”

“You found Sapnap?”

“Wh -- Sapnap? Where is he?”

Dream, George, and Karl all look at each other, the former two looking confused at the latter, who’s face flushes.

“How do you know Sap, Karl?” George questions suspiciously.

“I don’t,” Karl answers nanoseconds too fast, for only Tommy to notice. “I saw his report card and I was interested, the Ultimate Arsonist sounds cool, y’know?”

“You probably just think he’s hot, don’t you?”

Karl’s face flushes deeper somehow, and he smacks Quackity’s arm indignantly. “Shut up, no I don’t.” He shows something to the short boy on his communicator, most likely Sapnap’s profile, and Quackity’s eyebrows raise.

“Well, damn, I don’t blame you.”

Karl mutters something -- it sounds like “shut up, Alex,” -- right as George starts to snicker and Dream fixes his gaze on Tommy and stands.

_Oh God, he’s taller than me._

“Where Sapnap?” Dream questions in a low, slightly threatening tone.

Tommy falters for a moment before scowling up at him. “Wh -- you can’t just ignore my questions, what is up with you and all those things I mentioned, don’t ignore me!”

Dream taps his foot impatiently. “It doesn’t _matter_ right now, I don’t have time for this, _where is he?”_

Tommy holds his ground. “You have all the time in the _world,_ along with the rest of us, so shut up. Did you do this? Why are you --”

And Tommy doesn’t get to finish his inquiry before Dream grabs the front of Tommy’s shirt, lifting him so their eyes are level. Under any other circumstances, Tommy would have fought him, but he instead freezes up, hands reaching to pry Dream’s hands off of him but never reaching their intended destination.

“Where. Is. He?”

Tommy doesn’t answer -- not out of his usual stubbornness, but instead out of the sheer panic that suddenly closes itself around his heart. He can’t move.

Tubbo, taking a bit longer to survey the situation, shoves Dream off of Tommy (who stumbles backward) and spits, “He’s in room 120A with two other people,” His face twists into one of anger and he huffs through his nose, pointing to the door and standing straighter than he usually does. “Leave. Both of you. _Now.”_

Dream stares Tubbo down for a second before shrugging, gesturing for George to follow him. The pair leaves, and George slams the door shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! so, i'm expecting backlash for this, and for once in my life i just Do Not Care because as far as i know, i'm not doing anything wrong.
> 
> this isn't like smpronpa where, as far as i can tell (it was deleted before i even got back into mcyts), it was writing about the real people of smplive -- william, dave, i don't know any other real names off the top of my head -- and that is WeirdChamp, i will say that. thankfully, i am NOT doing that!!
> 
> as far as i know, tubbo doesn't have a tail in real life, nor can he grow flowers from his head. sapnap cannot shoot fire from his hands and skeppy does not have biological glitter dispensers. this is about the fictional dream smp characters!
> 
> i could have easily included schlatt in this, but i recognized that he may not be comfortable with being put in fics in general -- though i'd assume that that has changed, given that he's in a roleplay server and played a major villain, i'd rather not take any chances. (and thinking about it now, i don't think i could write him not being the president, that's the only way I've written him before so...it probably would have been bad anyways.)
> 
> and before you come at me for the violence aspect, just remember that "canon-typical violence" in the dream smp includes blowing a then-sixteen-year-old to pieces with a rocket launcher, stabbing someone through the chest with a sword, four people all being brutally murdered inside of a tiny underground room within the span of a few seconds, *somehow* getting murdered with a pickaxe, i don't even want to imagine that one -- it isn't a flowery sunshine and rainbows story in canon, folks, and this story surely won't be either.
> 
> if any of the ccs in the story do actually say they are uncomfortable with this, it will be taken down immediately. you have my word. :D
> 
> **okay normal notes:**
> 
> I actually wrote that tommy was 6'1" before the tiktok guy figured it out and I feel inCREDIBLY validated because. look. he gives me 6'1" vibes, I'm sorry.  
> i am well aware that quackity isn't actually 5'0" BUT I headcanon his character as that so [shrug] oh well. if I used that excuse for tommy then he'd be 5'10" (there is NO WAY that c!tommy is any taller than 5'10" and I'll die on that hill) so I think I might just be being mean. them's the breaks!  
> i really hope it isn't obvious who's gonna die and who won't, I've got everything planned. every single murder and trial. chapters one through six. but when I'm writing the FTEs and general fun stuff in between, I'll try and keep focus on everyone so there are no suspicions.  
> there is a mastermind! and they are in the group!! :00 i wanna see if y'all will be able to figure it out, hehe.
> 
> this is reposted because it flopped the first time (please God, don't let this flop, I've worked on this for two months man), but I did manage to actually proofread this time so that's pretty pog B)
> 
> please enjoy!!!!


	2. Prologue.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW/CW: Implied kidnapping, cursing. Ask to add.

Tommy is still frozen in place, heart hammering in his chest as Tubbo shakes him. "Tommy? You good?"

Tommy shakes his head suddenly, scratching his scalp as he nods slightly. "Y...yeah, I'm fine. I'm okay."

"You sure?" Calls Quackity, Karl nudging him slightly. "You look like you just hit someone with a train, man."

"I'll hit _you_ with a train, douchebag." Tommy snaps, and Quackity breaks into cackles.

"Good to have ya back, buddy," he says, laughing.

"I'm still _not_ your buddy!" Tommy yells, and Tubbo pulls on the sleeve of his shirt to get his attention.

"I think we should get going now -- maybe we can find the guy _you_ woke up with?" Tubbo questions, and Tommy grimaces.

"I...don't know where that is," he says sheepishly, and Tubbo sighs. "I'd probably recognise the room if we pass it...but...yeah..." The smaller boy sighs yet again and says, "Fine, we'll just work with whoever we come across, then. Will you two be alright?" He directs the end of his speech towards Karl and Quackity, who basically wave him off.

“We’ll be fine, Tubbo!” Karl says, and Tommy shifts uncomfortably. He sounds too friendly for a stranger. “We’ll just hang in here until someone gets us out or something.”

“Make sure not to come back without knocking!” Quackity adds with a devilish smile, while Tommy immediately rolls his eyes and heads for the door, Tubbo and Karl take a moment before reading, the former simply saying, “Big Q, Jesus Christ,” and the latter hitting him yet again and saying, “Alex, stop being such a weirdo, gosh.”

Quackity rubs the spot on his shoulder he keeps getting attacked at and whines, "This is abuse."

The two teens depart and continue down the hallway. They pass a few doors as they chatter and Tommy freezes.

"Wait a minute..." Tommy mutters, and he walks back to the door they just passed as Tubbo watches on, confused. Tommy pokes his head into the window thing and shakes his head. Nothing. He walks a little further backwards to the next door.

Nothing, nothing, nothing. Finally, he comes to the classroom _right next to the one they were in,_ pokes his head up, and looks down at Tubbo with wide eyes.

“Tubbo…” Tommy starts, and he looks at the door, at Tommy, and at the door again before starting to shake with laughter.

“ _Surely not,_ surely _not,”_ he says through wheezes, and Tommy can’t help but join in, and in a matter of moments they’re both laughing so hard that their kidnapper(s) is/are probably wondering exactly what the hell they managed to do wrong. “We -- we ran in the -- different…”

Their hysterical cackles are brought to a dead halt when the door next to them swings open.

The boy who opens it is tall. Taller than anyone he’d ever seen before. Half of his face is a dark purple that’s basically black -- you’d only know it was purple from a color picker or a very, _very_ bright light. The other half of him is white. He has a green and red eye, respectively, and freckles scattered around his face that are the opposite color of what side they’re on. He wears a suit and a red tie with equally formal pants and...sneakers.

And he looks _completely_ out of it.

He stares at the two teens, cocks his head to the side with what Tommy assumes to be mild intrigue before turning around and entering the classroom. Tommy and Tubbo lock eyes, bewildered, and follow him in.

He’s somehow already across the room by the time they’re fully in, sitting on one of those surfaces next to windows in classrooms, holding a book on what looks to be pre-calculus and staring intensely at it.

“Uhm... _hello??”_ Tommy calls, and the guy looks up to stare at him, eyes almost glazed over. Tommy takes a step back, but Tubbo moves forward. Tommy reaches out to stop him and goes unnoticed, the shorter boy simply shaking the enderman hybrid’s shoulder.

“Hey...you okay?” Tubbo asks, and suddenly the hybrid’s pupils contract and he shakes his head, eyes darting around the room nervously, as if he only just became aware of his surroundings before settling on Tubboo and tilting his head to the side.

“Oh, uh...hello!” he says, giving a small wave. He’s tall as all hell, Tommy just noticed that he’s wearing a _crown,_ he stares at people _and_ his voice is deep? Tommy wonders how his soft-spoken demeanor is instantly able to negate all of that. It’s almost impressive. “Did you two just get here?”

Tubbo blinks a few times. “Y...yeah?” he says, confused. “You just opened the door for us like...thirty seconds ago.”

The boy’s eyebrows furrow. “Did I?”

“Yeah, you did,” Tommy says, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. “What is _up_ with you, man, why are you lookin’ all weird ‘n’ stuff --”

“Wait -- where am I?” The boy suddenly asks, jumping as if he was startled. “I don’t -- I don’t think I fell asleep here…” His voice drops to a mutter, and a hand reaches up to his face. “Did I fall asleep here…?”

Tommy grumbles about being interrupted while Tubbo says, “No, big man, I think you were kidnapped like the rest of us, we’ve met ten other people so far and they’ve all said the same thing.”

The boy just turns his stare to the floor. “Oh,” he whispers. “I should be panicking about this but I think I already did and forgot and now I’m too tired,” he shakes his head before looking to Tubbo and sticking out his hand. “Hello! My name is Ranboo, and I have short-term memory loss. It’s nice to meet you…” he turns to Tommy with a smile. “And you!”

Tommy grins. Honestly, this is the first _not_ suspicious person he’s met. As in, he’s good at reading people. Humans (+ humanoids) are like reading someone’s mental diary to him.

He could see something in Wilbur’s eyes that told him that he’d seen things that broke him, even if he doesn’t remember them. In Niki, he could see someone that could _easily_ tear him to little scowling pieces if she wanted to, despite her soft demeanor. Skeppy isn’t affected by petty insults or threats because he’s faced the real deal so much and always has to stay on his toes. Sapnap, who’s cool facade is more obvious than Pinocchio, is actually pretty shy. Quackity cares about people more than he’s willing to let on, for whatever reason. Bad is confusing, even to Tommy, his caring demeanor being real but also having an _incredibly_ short temper. Karl is shady, George has next to nothing to him (but is also the hardest to read yet), and Tommy doesn’t really want to dwell on Dream.

This guy is an open book and isn’t particularly trying to close it. God knows how Tommy can tell from the few words he’s said up to this point, but he can. Usually, someone being this open would set off _all_ of Tommy’s internal alarm bells, but honestly, it’s a nice change of pace from all the weirdos he’s met so far.

Not to say that the guy isn’t a weirdo. “Short-term memory loss? So like…” Tommy pauses. “Dory from Finding Nemo?”

Ranboo laughs, holding up a hand to cover his mouth. “Yes, a lot like her, but I actually have a way to keep my memories…” He stops abruptly and pulls up his inventory, his face morphing into one of shock, then panic, before settling on confusion, his brows knitting together. “...huh.”

“What? What is it?” Tommy asks, and Tubbo gives a variant of the same question.

“My -- I have this book that I write my memories in, and I always keep it on me so I don’t forget important things, but I can’t -- I don’t --” He freezes, pupils dilating before he shakes his head to the point where Tommy thinks it might’ve hurt. “No. I probably already freaked out about this, it’s fine, I’ll just…” He gulps, and his voice drops to a whisper. “Find something else.”

Tubbo smiles, clearly trying to help in some way. “Well -- that’s alright, big man, we’ll make sure you don’t forget anything _too_ important.”

Tommy nods. “Yep, you’re coming with us now.”

“Wait, really?”

Tubbo and Ranboo look at each other and giggle, and Tubbo turns to Tommy. “I thought that’d take a bit of convincing from you.”

“No, but see, Tubbo,” he steps to Tubbo and leans into his ear, fur brushing up against his nose slightly. “I’m going to make him my _bitch.”_

Ranboo freezes and breaks out into loud laughs, and Tubbo shoves Tommy away, who dissolves into his trademark cackles. “Tommy. Oh my God, please,” Tubbo says, shaking his head before turning back to Ranboo. “Okay, okay, I’m Tubbo, the Ultimate Beekeeper, and this is Tommy, the Ultimate Loyalist. It’s nice -- wait, what’s _your_ Ultimate?”

Ranboo freezes. He blinks once, twice, and then the panic that’d been welling up inside of him for the past couple of minutes starts to seep out. “I -- I can’t...I know I _have_ one, but -- I... _I can’t remember, oh God.”_ His legs pull up to his chest, and Tommy rushes up to him.

“Hey -- nono, calm down, it’s alright, man,” Tommy says quietly. He doesn’t touch Ranboo -- he doesn’t know if that’s really a good idea, and he doesn’t want to freak him out more. “You’ll remember eventually, we can help you, alright? Don’t freak out about it too much.”

Tommy and Tubbo’s communicators ding as Tommy continues to relay uncharacteristically kind words to the panicking boy.

 **Ranboo Live**  
**Height** : 6’10”  
**Weight** : 60kg  
**Chest** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Blood Type** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Date of Birth** : Unknown  
**Likes** : Potatoes, aliums, friends  
**Dislikes** : Division, sides  
**Notes** : Ultimate ???

Eventually, Ranboo lets out a breath and rubs his eyes, which were tearing up after a bout of silence, saying, “Sorry for bothering you, I didn’t mean to…”

Tommy sharply straightens, all traces of any sort of sympathy _gone,_ and a smile comes to his face as he says, “Nope, I’m using this to make you my _bitch,_ you should actually panic more so I can help you more so you trust me more and you can do things for me.”

Ranboo laughs. “Normally, I’d be freaked out by that, but, uh...y-you’re a little more straightforward than I think you would be if you actually meant it.”

“Well of course he means it, memory boy,” Tubbo says, obviously joking. “Tommy is just a very straightforward person.”

“Uh-huh,” Ranboo responds wryly. “Um...would you mind showing me your tablets? So I can get a sense of all the people here? I don’t think I want to...introduce myself to everyone. Again.”

“Yeah, sure!” Tubbo hands Ranboo his tablet and directs him to the Report Card. Tommy sits on the platform thing next to him, and Tubbo sits on the other side.

Ranboo clicks through the faces, and Tommy gives little comments on everyone he sees when he sees them -- just so Ranboo can get the right idea.

“Wilbur is cool, he’s a president --”

“He fought in a war, and so did she, Niki!”

“Sapnap is a blaze hybrid and makes sick patterns out of fire --”

“Ooh, that sounds cool.”

“Yeah, totally! And Skeppy is really cool, too --”

“No, Tubbo, Skeppy is a prick.”

They bicker over that before moving on.

“Quackity -- he wants to be called Quackity, not Alex -- is really funny, and Bad is fuckin’ weird but he’s pretty nice, I guess. Total stick up his ass, though, he doesn’t like cursing.”

They come across Dream’s page and Tommy scowls deeply. “He’s an actual, honest-to-God prick, I’d avoid him if I were you.”

Ranboo turns to Tubbo for confirmation -- Tommy seems like the kind of person to say that about a lot of people, but when Tubbo nods too, he turns to his own tablet, which had been dinging every time he read a name, and adds something to his notes on Dream.

“Wh -- you can do that?” Tommy exclaims, and Ranboo looks at him weirdly.

“Y...Tommy, it says “notes,” why _wouldn’t_ I be able to do that?” Ranboo says, and Tommy huffs.

“Whatever, just... _stay away from him.”_ Tommy says, and when he moves on to George, and Tommy almost laughs at how silly he looks with the glasses.

“George doesn’t have much to him, as far as I can tell,” Tubbo says. “He and Dream are like, in cahoots or something, so maybe steer clear of him, too.”

“Yeah, I was...already going to.” Ranboo says, his voice quieting as he points at a specific part of George’s profile.

 **Dislikes** : Responsibilities, endermen

Tommy’s eyes widen and he can barely suppress a laugh. “What the heck, why would he -- what the hell? That’s so specific.”

“Okay, well, we’ll make sure you stay away from him, then,” Tubbo swipes the screen of Ranboo’s tablet to Karl, who they’d passed in favor of shitting on Dream and George. “That’s Karl! He’s nice, but, like, he’s kind of a weirdo.”

“He’s a total weirdo, I don’t trust ‘im,” Tommy says grumpily with a scowl. “He’s hiding something and I don’t know what, he’s _sus.”_

Tubbo waves him off. “You think everyone here is sus, Tommy.”

“That’s because they _are!”_

“Whatever,” the shortest boy responds, shrugging. “We still have six people that we need to meet. Jeez, this place is huge.”

“We’d better get moving, then! Come on, boys!” Tommy exclaims, sliding from his seat and bounding to the door, flinging it open with reckless abandon and not waiting for Tubbo and Ranboo to follow.

Wandering the halls for a while, they do end up seeing a bunch of people that they already met walking around, most notable of which being BadBoyHalo and Skeppy. When they pass each other, Tubbo waves at Skeppy, who waves back, before pointing at Tommy with a snicker and saying, “Nice tattoo, idiot,” whilst flicking a cloud of glitter at him.

BadBoyHalo frowns and squints at Tommy from behind before rolling his eyes and moving his hand upwards behind his ear. “Back of your neck, Tommy, right there.” He says with a sigh, and he and Skeppy continue to walk away.

Tommy scowls and lifts a hand up to the area Bad gestured to, feeling a bit of roughness. He traces the pattern and feels his face turn red as Tubbo guffaws from behind him. Tommy whirls around and shoves the smaller boy, making him stumble but doing no real damage, yelling, “You knew about that, didn’t you, ya _prick!”_ He turns and juts a finger up towards Ranboo. “And so did you, douche!”

Ranboo raises up his hands. “I-I didn’t know whether you _wanted_ it to be there or...y’know…”

“What, you think I _wanted_ a glitterally blue dick plastered on my neck?!”

“I don’t know you! I don’t know your lifestyles!”

“What are y’all yelling about?”

Tommy clamps his mouth shut as a figure emerges from around the corner...followed by three more. Great. They took so long that people had to come and find them. While there’s technically nothing wrong with that, it makes Tommy's insides itch to know that he wasn't able to approach everyone himself.

"Nothing of your concern," Tommy mutters, looking up at the man approaching them. The first thing he notices on the guy is the gas mask hanging from around his neck -- weird, but it's probably just a stylistic aesthetic choice. Next comes the green hair -- again, weird, but it quickly becomes less weird when Tommy notices his eyes. The whites of his eyes aren't, well, _white._ They're pitch black, and the actual eye part is white.

Taking in his entire color palette, Tommy quickly deduces that the guy is a creeper hybrid, which he doubts himself on for a moment because that should be impossible because all the creeper hybrids are _dead._

He doesn’t even get time to think about it or even properly look at the other people before the man claps his hands together, saying, “This seems like enough people for an efficient introduction, line up.”

Tommy blinks. “What?”

He moves his hands outwards. “All six of you, line up, quickly, _now.”_

One of the people behind him shakes his head with a sigh. “You can’t keep doing this, Sam, you’re scarin’ everybody.”

“Sam” shoots the man a look, and the guy raises his hands in mock surrender and goes into the line with the other two people and Ranboo. Tommy and Tubbo look at each other, shrug, and stand in the line. “Okay, we’re all going to introduce ourselves now -- state your name, age, biological status, who you remember, and Ultimate Talent, _in that order._ I will go first.”

He clears his throat and waves, and Tommy notices that he has gloves on. He wears a golden chestplate over his green sweatshirt, and normal jeans and sneakers. “Hello! My name is Awesamdude, or Sam. I am twenty-four years old, a creeper hybrid, I remember Hbomb, here, and I am the Ultimate Redstone Engineer. It’s a pleasure.”

 **Sam Awesamdude**  
**Height** : 6’7”  
**Weight** : 82kg  
**Chest** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Blood Type** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Date of Birth** : June _[[N/A]],_ 1996  
**Likes** : Redstone, robotics  
**Dislikes** : Cats, creepers  
**Notes** : Ultimate Redstone Engineer

Tommy nudges Tubbo and Ranboo on either side of him, and they both look at him with almost dazed expressions. So he was right -- how is that even possible? He’s learned in school dozens of times that creeper hybrids were hunted down and inhumanely slaughtered because of the danger they posed on society or whatever. And yet.

Sam points at the guy who made fun of him earlier, who put himself in the front of the line. “H, your turn.”

“You just said my name, Sam.”

“H.”

“Fine, fine.” He steps slightly out of the line, and Tommy can see his outfit -- it’s just a flannel and jeans. That’s really the only notable thing about him -- he’s too scrawny to be the Ultimate Lumberjack or something, so Tommy just supposes that he dresses casually, or that there isn’t really a way to dress for his talent, like him.

Suddenly, he manifests a _microphone_ in his hand, and starts saying in the most dramatic, comercial-ly voice possible, “My name is Hbomb Ninety-Four, that’s H-B-O-M-B 94, I’m twenty-seven and still kickin’, all human, and I remember Mister Awesamdude over here!” He gestures to Sam, who rolls his eyes, and Tommy feels an urge to clap, as if Sam is some sort of special guest. The man in question has pulled out his communicator and is tapping the screen impatiently. He brings his outstretched hand in towards his stomach in a bow. “And I’m the Ultimate Host,” He lifts his head and smiles. “Nice to meet y’all!”

 **HBomb Ninety-Four**  
**Height** : 5’8”  
**Weight** : 68kg  
**Chest** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Blood Type** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Date of Birth** : January 4th, 1994  
**Likes** : Cats, maids, game shows  
**Dislikes** : Getting his stuff stolen  
**Notes** : Ultimate Host

“Thank you, H. Next in line, please.”

The next in line in question startles slightly before clearing his throat, grinning and showing off a pair of sharp fangs. He has a pair of what are most likely fox ears sticking out from his obviously custom-made hat, given that they’re orange with white streaks in them. He has a black jacket with several colors on the flaps over a white shirt with boots and jeans.

“My name is Fundy!” He exclaims, pointing his thumb towards himself. “I’m twenty-one and a fox hybrid (obviously) --” He swishes a tail out from behind him that Tommy hadn’t even noticed. “And I remember, uh…” He points to the guy standing next to him. “Him! I am the Ultimate Programmer, and, uh...hello!”

 **Fundy Live**  
**Height** : 6’0”  
**Weight** : 64kg  
**Chest** : _[[funnily enough i actually saw this on the site i used to get his height (which was wrong anyways) but i won’t put it because it’s STILL weird]]_  
**Blood Type** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Date of Birth** : October 10th, 1999  
**Likes** : Eret, foxes, redstone engineering, salmon  
**Dislikes** : Cat maids  
**Notes** : Ultimate Programmer

Sam furiously types something in on his communicator and nods approvingly. “Perfect. And that’s a talent I can get behind, Fundy,” He smiles at the boy before pointing at the dude next to him. “You next.”

The next guy looks just plain cool. He dons a grey t-shirt w/ black leggings and boots that are almost as tall as Tubbo and definitely makes him taller than he really is. Over it, he wears a flowing red cape with a golden latch in the middle that makes Tommy feel like a pleb. And to top it all off and make Tommy feel just plain poor, he has a golden crown that rests atop his fluffy, brown hair. He also has a pair of the darkest sunglasses Tommy has ever seen, concealing his eyes even from the side. They’re like blackout windows on the dude’s face.

He steps forward slightly and says, “Hello there,” in a voice that almost makes Tommy’s jaw go slack. He looks like that _and_ he has a deep-ass voice? Is this even allowed? “My name is Eret, I am twenty -- twenty-one. I am human, and I’m the Ultimate Monarch,” He bows regally and smiles before realizing something and straightening. “Oh, and, uh…” He points at Fundy with a smile. “This is my son.”

 **Eret**  
**Height** : 6’3”  
**Weight** : 58kg  
**Chest** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Blood Type** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Date of Birth** : January 9th, 1999  
**Likes** : Fundy, riches, power, friends  
**Dislikes** : Distrust  
**Notes** : Ultimate Monarch

Sam frowns slightly before shrugging. “You said it out of order but it’s whatever,” He then proceeds to take off _his_ crown (that Tommy somehow didn’t notice, even with the red jewel that’s basically on his forehead), holding it to his stomach and bowing deeply. “It’s an honor to meet you, my liege.”

Ranboo looks startled before doing the same, taking off his crown and bending slightly. Tommy expects Eret to tell them that they don’t have to be so formal around him like the cool kings do in the movies, but Eret just smirks. “The pleasure is all mine, Sam.” He says smoothly, and Tommy shudders. Cold.

Sam straightens up and points to Ranboo. “Your turn. Go.”

Ranboo freezes, eyes darting around the area before clearing his throat uncomfortably and stuttering out, “C-Could you repeat --”

Tommy smacks his arm to get his attention and stands on his toes, whispering, “Name, age, biology, who you remember, talent.”

Ranboo nods sharply (yet thankfully) and says, “Right, well, my name is Ranboo, I’m sixteen or seventeen or something around that, um, I-I’m half-enderman and...um…” He fidgets with his hands before muttering, “I-I don’t remember anyone here. Or my Ultimate talent. I’m positive I have one, I just...yeah.”

Sam clicks his tongue a few times before frowning. “Right...half enderman, half what, exactly?”

Ranboo’s face turns two different shades, green and red on his black and white sides respectively. “I can’t, um, remember...or, no, I don’t think I knew in the first place.”

Sam looks up at him, typing on his communicator without even looking at it. “How is that possible? Who are your parents?”

The taller boy shrugs, quite obviously uncomfortable, and says, “Um...if they’re alive, I don’t remember them...but I don’t think I ever even met them…”

“You seem to not remember a lot of things, Ranboo,” Sam says flatly, raising an eyebrow. “Memory problems, or are you just forgetful?”

At this point, Ranboo is visibly distressed and overwhelmed. “Uhm, memory problems,” he squeaks. “Definitely memory problems.”

Just as Sam inhales to probably ask another intrusive question, Tommy lightly pushes Ranboo back and steps forward, half-shouting, “Ay prick, it’s my turn now, innit? How’d you like it if _I_ started asking those kinds of questions, huh?” He takes an almost threatening step forwards. “You’re not so normal yourself, mister creeper hybrid!”

Tubbo snaps out of whatever awe-induced daze he was in and looks shocked. “Tommy!”

“What?!”

“Stop being a prick!”

“Ooh no, not this again, were you even listening to him? _I’m_ not the prick here!”

Ranboo looks exasperated. “Guys, please --”

The other three people look bewildered at the bickering between the other trio. How does this kind of stuff even happen, it’s been like, five minutes. Sam finally steps in, shaking his head and saying, “You’re right --”

“Damn straight.”

“Those questions were sort of intrusive, I’m sorry, Ranboo. Now,” He raises a brow at Tommy. “Would you care to introduce yourself?”

“‘Would you care to introduce yourself?’” Tommy repeats in a high-pitched voice. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t just do something awful, douche --”

“He’s not gonna introduce himself, I’ll do it,” Tubbo interrupts, rolling his eyes. Tommy throws his hands into the air and steps back but makes no further move to stop his best friend. “His name is TommyInnit, he’s sixteen, he’s totally human, he and I remember each other, and he’s the Ultimate Loyalist.”

He looks to Sam, who types for a bit before nodding and moving his hand in a ‘go on’ fashion. “Aaand I’m Tubbo Underscore, seventeen, moo -- ah, uh, moobloom hybrid --” Tommy winces as every head in the area immediately snaps towards Tubbo. “And I’m the Ultimate Beekeeper.”

“Moobloom hybrid?” Sam questions.

Tubbo proceeds to make a tulip sprout from his hair and pluck it. Tommy notices that his hands are shaking. “The one and lonely -- heyo.”

Sam chuckles as his fingers fly over his communicator faster than the eye can catch. “Mood.”

“Hey, big man,” Tommy nudges Tubo, who looks up at him with wide eyes. His hands shake, and his eyes keep nervously darting to Sam taking notes on him and back to Tommy. He connects the dots, and suddenly, he’s somehow liking Sam less and less. “Chill out before you start sprouting poison.”

Tubbo giggles, but he stops abruptly when Sam looks up questioningly. “Poison?”

“He sprouts buttercups instead of tulips when he’s _anxious.”_ Tommy snaps pointedly.

Sam either doesn’t catch the comment or doesn’t care. “...and?”

Before Tommy can reply, Eret speaks up, saying, “Buttercups are extremely poisonous to humans -- or hybrids -- when consumed, Sam.”

“Not just humanoids, all animals or things without a stomach made for that kind of stuff,” Tommy interrupts. “Even cows avoid that shit. You shouldn’t even touch it, it makes your skin all swollen and itchy and God fuckin’ help you if you brush it against your lips.”

“I see,” replies the creeper hybrid, and he goes back to typing. Tommy has half a mind to go and knock the communicator out of his hands, but before he can do it, a new, unfamiliar (?) voice cuts through the hallway.

“Woah, did I just walk in on a public execution or somethin’? Should I go?”

“Oh, shut up, mate.”

It’s definitely an odd sight. On the left is a piglin hybrid, plain and simple. Tommy has seen enough to recognize one immediately -- what with the skin tone and the ears and the large bottom canines -- but this guy dresses unlike anyone he’s ever seen before, even the literal king standing a few feet away. He has on a regal outfit with a crown, a blood red cape flowing behind him and projecting an aura of power and importance, not to mention the sword at his side. He gets a _sword?_

The guy on the right, Tommy actually recognizes. His giant, black wings rest on his back and his cool bucket hat is tilted slightly above his eyes. He wears a turtleneck with a heart on it with a cloak (or something) over it. Tommy knows from his own personal research that that is --

“Philza Minecraft?”

“T-Technoblade?”

“Technoblade?!”

“Is that Technoblade?”

“W-Wait,” Tommy says, confused. _“That’s_ Technoblade? H-Holy shit?”

“Aaaye, Phil, one of these guys recognized you first!” Technoblade says, and “Phil” laughs. “One of em’s a nerd, come on,” He turns to the larger group playfully. “Speak up.”

“Uhh, sorry if this is rude, but like…” Hbomb points to the winged man and asks, “Who are you, exactly?”

“Philza fuckin’ Minecraft, idiot!” Tommy snaps at him. “Didn’t you go to school?! Longest hardcore world known to anything?? Done in by a spider way back and immediately moved to his next hardcore world before settling down with a family, HELLO??”

“I thought he was killed by a baby zombie…?” Tubbo questions, and Tommy almost smacks him upside the head.

“No, dipshit, there _was_ a baby zombie with full golden armour, but that just lowered his health a ton. It was that combined with the Fire Aspect on his sword backfiring onto him and the fact that his chestplate was off so he could use his wings that made it easy for the spider to finish him off. Get it right.” He flicks Tubbo’s ear, and in return, Tubbo thwacks Tommy’s hand with his tail again, which hurts like _hell._

Hbomb grins and points at Tommy. “There he is! There’s the nerd.”

Tommy’s face turns incarnadine with embarrassment as Technoblade and _Philza Minecraft_ laugh at him. He might die right then and there.

“Not a lot of people know about the spider, good on you, kid.” Philza says, and suddenly, Tommy is fine again. Better than fine, actually.

“Anyways, Tommy,” Tommy turns to Fundy, who looks at him with the most bewildered expression the boy has ever seen. “How do you know this guy but not _Technoblade?_ Do you live under a rock or something?”

“Of course I know who Technoblade is, I’m not fuckin’ stupid, I just didn’t know what he looked like is all,” Tommy snaps, crossing his arms. “I don’t look into that Hypixel stuff, shit’s shady. Entire thing is _sus.”_

Technoblade lets out a loud bark of laughter, crossing his arms. “Kid’s got taste _and_ brains, I like him already.”

“Well, I don’t know if I like _you,”_ Tommy says, walking towards him, ready to start his whole interrogatory schtick before realizing something and saying, “I mean, well, if you’re a good friend of Philza Minecraft then you’re already on your way --”

“Oh my gosh guys, we found a Philza superfan,” Technoblade says through laughs. “We found a Phil stan, this is terrifying, oh, oh no.”

Tommy’s ears turn pink, and he has to actively ignore Tubbo’s snickers from behind him. _“Shut up,_ no I’m not, introduce yourselves, _now.”_

Technoblade looks not at all phased. “I go by many names -- Technoblade, the blood god, the blade, crazy pigman with a sword --” That gets a chuckle out of everyone. “-- but you all can call me Techno. Ultimate PVPer.”

In stark contrast, Philza flings a hand upward and says, “Hello. Philza Minecraft, call me Phil, Ultimate Survivalist. Nice to meet you.”

 **Technoblade**  
**Height** : 6’3”  
**Weight** : 65kg  
**Chest** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Blood Type** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Date of Birth** : June 1st, 1999  
**Likes** : Philza, anarchy, potatoes  
**Dislikes** : Orphans, government  
**Notes** : Ultimate PVPer

 **Philza Minecraft**  
**Height** : 5’11”  
**Weight** : 78kg  
**Chest** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Blood Type** : _[[N/A]]_  
**Date of Birth** : March 1st, 1988  
**Likes** : Technoblade, flying  
**Dislikes** : Government, bad chest/inventory organization  
**Notes** : Ultimate Survivalist

Tommy looks at Tubbo. “Those might have been the most straightforward introductions we’ve gotten all day --”

“Yeah…”

Someone starts to introduce themself from in the group and _immediately_ gets shot down by Tubbo, who starts making those interrupting noises, ending with, “Zip it. That --” He points at Hbomb. “-- is Hbomb Ninety-Four, Ultimate Host. That’s Fundy, Ultimate Programmer, Eret, Ultimate Monarch, Ranboo, Ultimate God-knows, Sam, Ultimate Redstone Engineer, Tommy, Ultimate Loyalist, and me, Tubbo, Ultimate Beekeeper.” He points at everyone as he says their name and Ultimate before dropping his arm, exasperated. “I’m tired of introductions, guys.”

And before Tommy can make a witty comment, Techno or Phil can react, or anyone can say anything at all, the chilling sound of a bell ringing echoes through the hallway, bouncing around the walls from the speakers attached to monitors that Tommy hadn’t even noticed that flicker on, revealing a grainy, blurry, dark screen that conceals some shadowy figure.

And then the voice comes out.

“Ahem-hem! Testing, testing, one, two, three! Are we on? Are we good?” The voice is high-pitched and light, as if the owner hasn’t a care in the world. This is undoubtedly their kidnapper, Tommy realizes -- who else could sound so carefree in such a grim environment? The joking that goes around between the kidnapped is bogged down by anxiety and tension, but this voice doesn’t sound like there’s anything wrong. “Hello! This is your proud principal speaking -- I think it’s about time we stop the introduction phase, skip the prologue, send us _straight_ into the meat of his heart-poundingly wild adventure tale!”

“Oh boy,” Techno tuts, shaking his head. “We were kidnapped by a maniac, great.”

“I want everyone to meet in the gym in five minutes! Five! Minutes! Latecomers _will_ receive a cruel and soon-to-be-usual punishment.” The carefree tone dipped at the end, the voice becoming more harsh and menacing than Tommy comfortable with.

The PA systems click off with one final sentence from their abductor:

“Let’s get this show on the road!”

.•☆•.

The gym is huge and incredibly far from where the group of nine were. Thank God for Sam actually knowing how the tablets work and finding the map -- otherwise, they all would have gotten there way after the five-minute limit and probably mass-slaughtered.

Sam put himself to good use for once! Great.

The group arrived and were the last people in, meaning that eight other people had made it in there before them. And judging by the time, they were really on the wire, but they made it. Tommy glances around at everyone there -- they stay in their own little groups and fragments of people they know or already like, and so does Tommy, sticking with Tubbo and Ranboo.

They get little time to talk to each other at all -- this school is no place for idle chatter.

As soon as the five-minute mark hits, the lights go out, and Tommy hears several people scream from in the darkness. The covered windows make it completely pitch black dark, aside from the glow of a few people’s eyes. Tommy grips Tubbo’s hand and stands close to Ranboo, trying to convey to the both of them that he’s still there.

A spotlight clicks on and shines on a singular podium on the stage in front, completely normal looking, but ominous in the darkness. It’s like the spotlight doesn’t project any light outwards -- it’s just around the podium. It’s all that Tommy can see.

And then the voice comes back, but much more focused this time, only coming from one place in the room but still echoing around. “Greetings, Hope’s Peak Academy students! Please give a hearty round of applause to your headmaster…”

The podium rattles, and suddenly, a small, stuffed bear pops up from the back, seemingly hovering in the air for a few seconds before dropping onto the top, sitting comfortably behind the microphone with a wave and an everlasting, unsettling grin. “Mr. Monokuma!”

Dead silence. Nobody moves, nobody _breathes_ \-- Tommy feels as if time itself is standing still in shock. Tubbo squeezes his hand in the dark, probably having felt the taller boy stiffen and freeze. It grounds him, if only a little, and he blinks hard and stares at the thing on the podium.

Finally, after what seems like years, a voice rises from the quiet.

“Is that a friggin’ teddy bear?”

The lights click back on, and Tommy takes a useless step backward as the bear -- Monokuma, as Monokuma leans forwards and plants its hands on the front of the podium angrily and yells at Quackity, “I am _not_ a teddy bear! I am headmaster Monokuma!” It leans back and puts its paws together with a smile...on the side that can do anything aside from smile. “And thank you all for arriving so quickly and on time! It’d be a shame if someone got hurt on the first day because of tardiness!"

"What do you mean 'on the first day?'" Sam questions, being in the front of the group. He takes a cautious, small step forward. "We don't plan to stay here for more than a day, if that's what you're implying."

"Wh -- why'd you ask it about _that_ instead of the 'getting hurt' part?!" Fundy exclaims. "We're gonna get beat up for being late!?"

Monokuma laughs, completely ignoring Fundy’s own questions and replying, “On the first day of your communal school life, of course! What else could I _possibly_ mean?”

“Communal school life?” Niki asks, scrunching up her nose. She’s a little hard to hear, being in the back of the room and next to Wilbur, but she projects her voice enough for Monokuma to be able to hear. “I don’t understand what that means, sorry.” She doesn’t say it like she doesn’t understand -- she says it threateningly, as if she’ll do something if the answer is what she expects it to be.

“Your brand new life here at this school, a school life with no scheduled end date!”

This gets a bit of an outburst from the eighteen people in the room, and Tommy ends up starting to march forward, letting go of Tubbo’s hand, but immediately gets pulled back by the arm by Ranboo. He meets eyes with the enderman hybrid and Ranboo grimaces before shaking his head. _Don’t do it._

And then Tommy looks at Ranboo. Looks at Monokuma. Looks back to Ranboo. And wrenches his arm out of Ranboo’s grip, flinching away from him as if his touch burned. Hell no, absolutely the fuck not, no, no, no _way._

Tommy rushes up towards the front, ignoring Tubbo’s shouts, and stands in front of the podium. “What the fuck do you mean by ‘no scheduled end date,’ we’re gettin’ out of this place as soon as fuckin’ possible, douche!”

He expects some sort of retaliation, but Monokuma just laughs. “‘What does this mean,’ ‘what does that mean,’ you all ask so many _stupid questions,”_ Its voice dissolves into the harsh tone it had over the PA system, and it hisses, “What it _means_ is that you guys are gonna be stuck here for the rest of your silly little lives, in this school, until the day that you crumble into _dust.”_

Tommy blinks as the red eye of Monokuma flashes threateningly, and he takes a large step away, just as Technoblade -- Techno, right -- snorts and says, “Yeah, no,” Tommy turns to him and sees him start to pull his sword out of his sheath. “I’ve kind of got people to get back to, I can’t stay here for _that_ long. Gettin’ free stuff for a while would be cool but...nah.”

Monokuma smiles as Techno approaches, tilting its head. “And exactly _who_ do you need to get back to, Mister Blade?”

Techno falters, frowning, and Monokuma lets out a loud laugh yet again. It’s ear-splitting and quickly gets annoying. “You’ve got everyone you remember right here! You have Mister Minecraft here with you, and that’s aaall you’ve got. But I’m sure that you’re sure that you have _more_ people that you’re close to, huh?” Techno doesn’t answer, starting to lift his sword out more. “If you kill me, you’re neeever gonna find out who those people are…” Monokuma leans forward with a sly grin. “Or what happened to them.”

Techno pauses, rolls his eyes, and drops his sword, letting it slide back into its sheath, much to Tommy’s dismay. “Wh -- why are you hesitating, it’s _literally_ a remote-control toy, _there’s someone that’s controlling it!”_

Immediately and at the same time, Fundy, George, and Sam all tell him variations of “no, that’s not right.”

“That’s moving way too fluidly for it to be remote-controlled,” Fundy says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Tommy has half a mind to strangle him. “The controller would have like, seventeen little buttons and levers to press and flip.”

“Plus, the lip-syncing is way too good for it to just be moved by controller,” Sam adds, and Tommy has a _full_ mind to strangle him, but holds himself back for the sake of everyone else in the gym. “That,” He points to Monokuma, who sits there giggling to itself. “Is a robot. And a damn well-made one at that, too. We’re dealing with someone who has a lot of talent and a lot of funds.”

“Puhuhu...thank you for taking a minute to admire my craftsmanship --”

“Shut up.” Sam snaps.

“But if you could _please_ let me finish explaining...”

“No, actually,” Tommy interrupts snarkily. “I want to get out of here as quickly as possible, so _tell us how to leave, prick.”_

Monokuma sits still for a moment before shrugging. “Sure!”

Silence, and then Hbomb quietly says, “Well, that was easier than expected.”

“If you would like to leave this school that I have oh-so-kindly stocked and furnished for you ungrateful _brats,_ you’ll have to participate in a game of my own creation!

“What kind of game?” Bad asks lightly. He does _not_ sound as concerned as he really should. Tommy could almost physically _feel_ a wave of pure, unfettered malice coming from the bear at that sentence. Why doesn’t anyone else ever feel these things? Or at least _notice_ them. “I’m good at games!”

“Puhuhu, I’m sure,” Monokuma’s grin somehow widens as he says quietly, “I want you all to play...a _killing game.”_

Unlike before, there was no silence here. There was an outburst of noise, and Tommy finds himself backing away from the podium and running back to Tubbo, standing on the side of him so that he’s not standing next to Ranboo. He won’t throw out accusations right at this minute -- he’ll have time later, and right now is so emotionally charged that Ranboo is at a high risk of getting run through with the Orphan Obliterator.

Suddenly, every single tablet is updated with notification, but few notice over the cacophony of noise. Questions are being thrown left and right at the robot bear, who answers nothing and just sits there, laughing to itself.

At a dip in the noise, Eret clears their throat, and it’s suddenly quiet, save for Monokuma’s soft chuckles. “I believe we’re supposed to go to the communicators for further guidance?” They hold theirs with a bit of a wave. “I believe these have been updated with a set of rules.”

Everyone starts to pull out their communicators and navigate to the rules section. Tommy hears Sam clear his throat and he rolls his eyes. Who decided to make _this_ prick the group leader or something?

“One. Students must live in the Ultimate Academy for the remainder of their foreseeable future. Two. Once a --” Sam frowns, moving his communicator closer towards his face. “Once a...murder takes place --”

“Once a murder takes place, all living students must participate in a class trial, geez,” Dream snaps. “Just read it.”

“If the blackened is exposed during a class trial,” Karl suddenly mutters, sounding more panicked and dismayed than Tommy thinks is appropriate. “They alone will be punished.” His voice drops to a whisper on the last word, and Tommy frowns.

“If the blackened is _not_ exposed, all remaining students will be punished…” Skeppy drawls, seemingly slowly processing everything whilst speaking.

“Huh…” Sapnap says quietly. “If the blackened survives the class trial, they will graduate and re-enter the world. So, wait, we get to leave if we --”

“Sapnap, shut up, we’re doing a thing -- look, I’ll go,” George clears his throat before accidentally reading an already read rule and tapping the side of his screen quickly to get to the right one. “The killing game will continue so long as the students allow it.”

“Nighttime is from 10pm to 8am. The dining hall and gymnasium are off-limits at night.” Niki says slowly, nudging Wilbur with her elbow.

“Violence,” Wilbur starts off, standing tall and straight. He doesn’t even look bothered. “Towards headmaster Monokuma is strictly prohibited.”

“Oh, this one is good!” Tommy is startled by Tubbo speaking up, his head turning sharply toward the smaller boy as his tail flicks absently. “Number nine, Monokuma will _never_ directly commit a murder. Well, at least there’s that.”

“Yooour e-handbooks are very important items!” Techno says with fake enthusiasm. “Please do not damage them! The heck’s an e-handbook?”

“You know, these few rules seem o-okay!” Fundy stutters out, wringing his hands as his tail swishes behind him, brushing the floor and blowing dust everywhere. “Maybe this won’t be that --”

“The body discovery announcement…” Phil starts with a tone of amusement, immediately silencing Fundy and making his face pale. “...will play when three or more people discover a body. So bodies are left behind on this server? Makes sense.”

“This just sounds like a murder mystery game or something,” Hbomb says confusedly before shrugging. “With minimal restrictions, you are free to explore the campus at your own discretion. Yeeeah, this is just Clue, isn’t it.”

Nobody else speaks up to read the next rule, so Sam mutters, “Here, I’ll go again. Thirteen. Any violation of these rules will result in a swift and immediate punishment.”

Quackity laughs nervously. “Why does ‘punishment’ sound more like ‘death’ in the context of that sentence?”

“That’s pro’lly what it means, innit?” Tommy says, and several pairs of eyes turn to stare at him. The boy defiantly stares back. “What? You all knew it, you were just too afraid to say, piss off,” He looks at the last rule on the list and reads it out. “There may be new additions to the school rules according to the convenience of the headmaster, great, so the bear can add rules whenever it wants.”

“Thaaat’s right, TommyInnit!” Monokuma yells excitedly, speaking again now that the rules have been read through.

“Keep my name out of your dirty fuckin’ mouth, prick.” Tommy snaps, and Monokuma giggles as the rest of the gymnasium goes silent. It takes a minute for what they just read to process, and while Tommy understands to an extent, he’s already impatient. If anyone decided to be an idiot and kill someone, there would be a trial to figure out who it was. If they get found out, they get _killed,_ and if they don’t, everyone else dies and they get to leave. Which is the stupidest option known to man -- this is a giant school, there is literally no way that all the exits and entrances were sealed off. There’s no way.

Just as Tommy finishes his trail of thought, someone starts to speak up.

“You realize that none of us are gonna --”

“So what,” Dream says, cutting off Sapnap (much to his chagrin). “We kill someone, cover it up, and then we get to leave? Do we get to take anyone with us if we win?”

Sapnap looks startled at the notion and slaps Dream’s arm, who ignores him. “Nope! Can’t take anyone with you...aside from under _special circumstances.”_

Dream tilts his head to the side. “What kind of circumstances?”

“Dude, what the hell?” Sapnap exclaims, but before he can continue, George shoves him slightly to get his attention before holding a finger to his lips.

Tommy narrows his eyes at the two of them. Pricks. They’re going to be a problem, Dream and George, aren’t they?

“Puhuhu...I can’t reveal _everything_ in the prologue, Mr. WasTaken!” Monokuma says, its hands up near its mouth as it giggles. “What kinda low-budget, inexperienced schmuck do you think I am?!”

Dream shrugs. “Fair.”

“Waaait, wait wait,” Bad says, shaking his head and stepping forward whilst chuckling incredulously. “You really expect us to just start ---” He waves around his hands for the effect. “-- _killing_ each other? Without trying to get out or survive peacefully first? That’s crazy talk.”

“Oh, no no no! I would never expect you all to kill without a _motive_ first...and even then!” Monokuma shrugs. “You can all choose to live here in peace for forever if you so choose! I can’t force you to do anything!”

“I think stealing our memories and locking us up in here is a good enough motive already,” Quackity snaps, messing with the sleeve of his tracksuit nervously. “What else could you _possibly_ add to _that?”_

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see!”

The gymnasium quiets as people try to think of more questions to fling at the bear but coming up short. Tommy taps his foot impatiently -- they know the guy’s deal, so why are they just standing there, asking questions about things that won’t even _happen_ if they just find a way to leave already.

“Um...th-the rules mentioned ‘punishment’ a whole lot, and, um,” Ranboo scratches the back of his neck, almost visibly shrinking away from the people that turn to stare at him. Tommy politely keeps his own gaze fixed on Monokuma. “A-And Tommy made a... _suggestion_ as to what you could have meant, but, uh, I wanted to heart it...s-straight from the horse’s mouth, I guess.”

Monokuma’s grin widens and he punches the air in excitement. “I’m glad you asked, Mr. Live! Rule violators and those who disturb the peace of this communal life with their murderous intent will be immediately...executed! Perhaps they'll be shot, maybe speared, bludgeoned, even!” It spreads its arms out in an all-encompassing manner. “Drowned, frozen, exploded -- whatever makes it interesting! It’s what those no-good, dirty, rotten rule-breakers deserve anyways!”

Ranboo looks greenish, but it isn’t because of his blood. He nods. “Right. That’s what I thought.”

It goes quiet yet again, and Tommy is just about ready to instruct everyone out of the gym, but someone speaks up one final time.

“Last question,” Karl says, walking slightly up to the front. Does this killing game have a name or...uh, anything like that? O-Or did you just come up with this on the spot, or…?”

To Tommy, it’s a stupid question and a total waste of time. Why should he _care_ about the name of the game when he’s not going to play it? He has half a mind to walk out of that gym with Tubbo (and maybe Ranboo -- he thinks his opinion has changed slightly) by his side and not care about anyone else.

But the look that flashes across Monokuma’s face that roots him to the spot _terrifies_ him. It’s not like the bear can really show that much emotion on his face, but the sudden brightness of its red eye, the body language it projects, everything about it, even though its two feet tall, horrifies him, and makes Tommy realise just how abysmal of a position he’s in.

Monokuma leans into the microphone with a giggle, malicious and malevolent, sending chills soaring throughout Tommy’s slender body. “Why, of course it does, Mr. Jacobs! This game, this despairingly awesome heart-pounding adventure, this story, this show, this!”

He flashes all rows of his sharp teeth, and Tommy feels his heart lurch.

“This...is Danganronpa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not about the real people! This is about their fictional Dream SMP characters! If any of the CCs in this story express discomfort, it will be taken down immediately.
> 
> I added some accidental irony...accidentally...towards the end there and almost made myself cry bc of it LMAO I have so much of this planned.....>:)))
> 
> hope you enjoyed the prologue(s lmao)! ill get started on the actual start right away!! (and you'll be able to suggest who you want tommy to spend his free time with on the next chapter, too! so be excited for that!!)
> 
> :DDD
> 
> you can all call me nether, as I said in the notes! :D my twitter (which i just made lol) is @netherthestorm bc iiii messed up w/ something lol. but yeah it's @netherthestorm! so send your hate/support/criticism/compliments to that, please and thanks! if you send it to the netheringthestorm I'm not gonna be able to see it! thank you! :D


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